


The Amazing Spider-Baek

by ninibearr (starsandsnipesforever)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Shots, CBX Friendship, College AU, Heavy Petting, M/M, baekhyun is spider-man, canon typical violence (insofar as marvel verse anyway), chanbaek main, college party antics, it's gon' get angsty, marvel AU, spider-man au, underage drinking probably, watch me pretend to do science, xiuchen side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-08-05 17:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 47,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandsnipesforever/pseuds/ninibearr
Summary: Baekhyun Byun: overachieving college freshman by day, web-slinging defender of the city by night. He's confident that he has his secret double-life balanced. His tall, ridiculously handsome classmate in addition to a mysterious figure clad in black, whose intentions are unclear, might prove otherwise.доступно на русском языке: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089501/chapters/47582920





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Byunbae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byunbae/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [The Amazing Spider-Baek](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089501) by [Your_OMG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_OMG/pseuds/Your_OMG)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/18/19 - This fic is now available in Russian here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089501/chapters/47582920
> 
> Translated by @Your_OMG Thank you so much again!
> 
> \-----
> 
> This was supposed to be a self-indulgent one-shot that somehow expanded into a self-indulgent full story, argh. I think it will be about six parts total, give or take. Updates just depend on how busy I am, but! I do have the rough draft (and I do mean VERY rough) complete, so it will get done.
> 
> Also note, this depiction Spider-Man is vaguely MCU based. I did outline and start this BEFORE the Venom movie came out though, and while it did play some influence that I went back and later added, Venom in this is ultimately intended to be *SPOILER ALERT* the bad guy in this.

“Hi, there! It’s currently seven a.m. Looks like it’ll be a mostly clear day with a high of 67 degrees Fahrenheit.“

Two arms emerge from the nest of blankets piled on the bed, flailing around the edge of the desk stationed next to it.

“I’ll update you on today’s news, provided by Google. Report: The public wants answers for the mysterious meteorite hitting outside the city as authorities keep the site contained. Next news: Suho Stark announces expansion of the Avengers Tower, which brings—“

Snatching his phone from the side table, Baekhyun Byun shuts off the alarm. His eyelids scrunch as a yawn stretches over his face, and he mentally bemoans that he can’t grab it with his web. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looks over to see the reason he can’t use his web-shooters: his dormmate, Jongdae, who knows nothing of his alternate identity. He’s still fast asleep. 

He probably had a late night, Baekhyun thinks, though he knows Jongdae’s lecture schedule starts later anyway. Personally, he prefers starting early and getting it out of the way method.

Gathering a towel and toiletries, Baekhyun heads out to the dorm’s shared bathroom to get cleaned up and dressed for the day—hair gelled down from a deep part, a light blue sweater pulled over his buttoned shirt.

Returning to the dorm, he sits down at his desk, containing his computer as well as an assortment of equipment to go with it—most of it secondhand and held together with electrical tape, but everything technically worked.

In addition to having his PC up and running, Baekhyun pulls out his laptop, his attention jumping between the two systems. Now and again, he glances over at Jongdae to make sure he’s still sleeping, occasionally nudging the PC screen away from him, as though concerned he might wake and see it.

Jongdae never wakes though, and Baekhyun saves his work before swirling in his chair, hooking his arm through one of the straps of his backpack as he passes by. Stuffing his laptop away inside it, he pauses to double check his inventory, not just his class materials—which he does have—but a certain red and blue suit as well. Zipping the backpack closed, he slings it over his shoulder and heads to the campus.

Baekhyun goes about his day from lecture to lecture, fairly ordinary for a college freshman. The faces of his classmates grow more familiar as he settles into his new routine, but putting names to them can still use some work.

Although he likes all of his current classes, Baekhyun heads to his final class, Biology, with the most enthusiasm. As he makes his way to an empty seat among the risers, he meets eyes with a boy with black hair fluffed over his forehead and slightly too big ears. Without even realizing it, the corner of his lips pull into a half grin, but he just as quickly averts his gaze. Taking his seat and unloading his laptop, all his attention turns to his class work.

Jongdae has long since started his own day by the time Baekhyun returns to their dorm room that afternoon. He plops himself down in front of his desk, pulling out his laptop to start homework while booting up his PC. Periodically, he glances up at it, jumping through tabs and scrolling through feeds. Time passes, and he knocks out a good chunk of his homework, when something on his PC makes him pause.

Baekhyun grins and reaches for his backpack.

\-----

With the sun having long set, only shadows fill the parking garage. Two men stand near the trunk of a car, throwing glances here and there, despite their cover.

One of the men holds a briefcase against one arm in front of him. 

The other eyes it. “That all of it?”

“Yep.” He flips open the latch, displaying rows of cash lining both sides. Snapping the case back closed, he folds his hand over the top, reluctant to hand it over just yet. “And the goods?”

The other man turns toward the trunk of the car, unlocking it and letting it open. He grabs the end of the lid and holds it up all the way. Black and silver metal glints from inside, reflective even under the cover of thick shadows cast from the concrete. It doesn’t take an expert to recognize those firearms are hot.

The man holding the trunk open glances behind him before returning his attention to the man with the briefcase. “You weren’t followed, were you?”

“Of course not,” he replies, offering the briefcase.

The other man takes it and backs out of the way, so the first can step up to the impressive arsenal and get a better look.

_Thwip! Thwip!_

The briefcase drops to the ground with a clatter, followed by two heavy thuds as the men follow. They soon realize that their arms are bound to their sides by a hard sticky substance. Surprised shouts and rapid kicks replace the previous near silence of the garage.

Two more cuts through the air muffle their voices as homemade webbing splatters over their mouths. Spider-Man drops down, landing on the roof of the car, perched with his knees bent and his hands together against the surface in front of him. “Evenin’, gents! Sorry to crash the party, but you didn’t send me an invite. And really, when you think about it, that means _you’re_ the rude ones.”

More screams are muffled into the web-gags, legs flailing about as the men attempt to heave their bodies onto their feet.

Spider-Man cocks his head to the side. “Hey, where you going? I just got here.” Launching off the car roof, he flips in the air and touches down in front of the men. He holds his wrists out, shooting silk strands for their ankles, tugging them back to the ground before dropping the webs.

All the while, a miniature drone hovers overhead, elegantly twirling broad circles to capture different angles. Spider-Man certainly makes a show of all his flips as well as artistic wrangling of his targets as flashes of light continuously click from the device.

Spinning around, he looks at the open trunk, the whites of his eye lenses expanding. “Oh, my. You two weren’t planning on playing nice, were you?”

He hears shuffling behind him and turns his head to see the men squirming against the bindings in an attempt to get away. Spider-Man grabs the briefcase from the ground with his web and slings it into the trunk before slamming it shut.

Shaking his head, he tsks exaggeratedly and flings out two more webs to grab them. “You two have no sense of party etiquette.”

Jumping back onto the top of the car, he grabs the ends of the web ropes and yanks the men into the air. The men grunt, shouting into the web mouth-coverings, but Spider-Man shoots out another thick strand that tethers the two men to the ceiling before they can plummet back to the ground. He fires another, then another, jumping off of the car and running around them, weaving the silk strands to make a full web around them, leaving them suspended in the air.

A short distance away, sirens can be heard, and flashes of red and blue lights sneak through the garage openings.

“It’s been real, boys, but that would be my cue to exit,” Spider-Man says, spinning the silk splaying out alongside them in a very specific pattern, fingers nimble and experienced from the years. “Don’t worry. I’m sure my buddies will cut you down.”

Leaping toward the parapet of the garage level, Spider-Man plants his feet along the ledge as he lands in a crouch, leaning into the city night. The miniature drone flashing earlier buzzes over to him and descends to his chest, flattening and extending thin, metallic legs into the spider emblem of his suit.

Twisting at the waist, he looks back at the men with a flourish of a salute. “Cheers!” 

Diving into the busy city streets, he shoots a series of web after web, anchoring onto the nearest buildings and swinging right over traffic. He flips upward toward the high point of a taller building and lands against it, palms and toes sticking to the vertical surface with all the ease of if he had been against the ground.

Perched upside down, he looks back at the garage, where a large web he constructed earlier outside of it displays the web lettering: _The bad guys are in here!_ Complete with an arrow pointing the way, in case the message wasn’t clear enough.

Police cars file in from the street-level entrance, but Spider-Man’s eyes are on the opening point he had just left. The black rims of his lenses thicken, and the camera before his eyes zoom in, zeroing his vision inside of the garage, where he had left the criminals suspended in a web with the lettering weaved right next to them: _You’re welcome!_

Soon enough, the police are out of their vehicles, some surrounding the men while the others circle around the weapon-filled vehicle. They can take it from here.

More strands of web project from his wrists as Spider-Man leaves the building, swinging through the streets until he finds a quieter area of town. Latching onto the wall, he crawls to the very top, pulling himself onto the roof. He sits down on the corner of the parapet with his legs dangling over the edge.

“How did those pictures come out?” Spider-Man asks, glancing down at the emblem on his chest. The image files open across his lenses, projecting ahead of him like large photographs on a slideshow, though only his eyes can see them.

In today’s world, where everyone whips out their phone the second they catch a glimpse of what might be a superhero, freelance photography is more challenging to come by. However, he has found a few online sources that will still pay decently (not enough) for the high quality up close and personal shots he’s able to snag. An hourly part-time job would probably pay better, but this agrees so well with his time management schedule.

Baekhyun pulls off his mask, breathing the cool night air unfiltered into his lungs. Slender, gloved fingers run through his light brown hair, brushing the dampened locks away from his eyes.

He grins, staring off in the general direction he knows Avengers Tower is located, even if it’s well beyond his range of vision.

He can do this. He can balance his college life as well as his responsibility to the local citizens as Spider-Man. Mr. Stark will see.

\-----

Screens faintly illuminate Baekhyun’s face from his desk. He has his homework on his laptop and feeds running down his PC as well as his phone, programs courtesy his old high school friend who knew computers like the back of his hand.

Baekhyun thanked him even still. It’s much more practical this way than suiting up and searching for potential threats manually every night. Plus, it gives him the chance to multitask, as the homework on his laptop could currently attest.

The doorknob jiggles behind him, and Baekhyun slams his laptop shut, turns his phone screen against the desk, and pulls up a game on his computer, snatching a controller and headset from the pile of equipment pushed off to the side.

The door opens, and Baekhyun is immersed in a virtual shootout of explosions and aliens.

“Oh, hey, you’re actually here tonight,” Jongdae chimes in from behind him. “Between that Stark Internship and your affair with the library, I was starting to feel like I didn’t even have a dormmate. Like there’s just this mess on one side of the room for no reason.”

“Hello to you too,” Baekhyun says dryly, waving a hand in the air quickly without looking away from the screen. “Anyway, tonight is raid night.”

“Hey, Baekhyun,” comes a voice from beside him, and Baekhyun is unsurprised to glance over to see Jongdae’s boyfriend.

“Hey, Minseok,” Baekhyun replies before leaning in, all but ignoring him for his game.

Minseok is undeterred though, leaning over to watch the screen a moment before his eyes scan over the mess of equipment. “Quite the setup you’ve got here.”

“Baekhyun’s got this whole mini CIA thing going,” Jongdae calls out while he rummages through his drawer by his bed. “If he was a real friend, he’d use those nerdy brains of his to make all our grades A’s in our classes.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Biochemistry and computer science are two very different things, Jongdae,” he says, eyes narrowing as he leans closer to the screen and furiously mashes buttons. “And anyway, it’s a lot less work just to study hard and do your homework.”

“Hey, hey, Baek,” Jongdae says behind him. “Can you see my reflection in that screen of yours?”

Baekhyun’s grins without looking back. “You’re flipping me off, aren’t you?”

“You already know me so well.”

Minseok, meanwhile, has taken to inspecting the gadgets littering his desk. He moves to Baekhyun’s other side to stop beside the old Macintosh hiding in the back corner. “Wow, this thing looks ancient. What could you possibly even use that for?”

“It still works,” Baekhyun replies, a hint of indignation in his tone as he once again finds himself defending his old Mac in all its vintage relic computer glory.

Pinching the tangle of cords, Minseok attempts to loosen them. “How can you even find anything in here? This would drive me crazy.”

Baekhyun chooses to ignore Minseok’s fretting in favor of glancing back at Jongdae. “So what are you guys up to this evening?” he asks, attention returning to the screen in front of him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll let you have your alone geek time,” Jongdae laughs, pulling out a shirt from his drawer and flapping it out. “One of my buddies is throwing a huge house party a few blocks down.”

“Sounds anxiety-inducing,” Baekhyun says casually, trying not to sound too relieved. He likes his budding friendship with Jongdae and Minseok, but he really wants to get back to investigating the streets, which is easier when he’s by himself.

“Yeah, but that’s what makes it fun.” Minseok grins, turning so that he’s leaning along the edge of the desk. He tilts his head curiously. “What are you going to do? Don’t tell me you’re going to spend the whole weekend playing video games?”

Baekhyun glances over at Minseok and shrugs. “Might sneak in an overdue Star Wars marathon at some point too.”

Minseok throws his head back and groans. He turns around, bending over so that he’s eye level with Baekhyun, resting his arms against the edge of the desk. “Listen, I love a Star Wars marathon as much as the next geek, but consider… a college party. You should come with us. It’d be fun!”

“It’d be something,” Baekhyun says, making a faces as he mashes the controller buttons, which sends off a resounding spray of blasts in the game.

Despite his solid apathetic stance, Baekhyun has to admit some part of him is touched at the prospect of being invited. Back in high school, he would have jumped at the opportunity, given that his crowd wasn’t typically invited to those sorts of things. Now that he’s older though… there’s this acute awareness that the people who party tend to be people that don’t like nerds like him by default.

“Oh, come on,” Jongdae chimes in from behind, heading over to the desk as he pulls on his clean shirt. He leans over so that his face is close on Baekhyun’s other side. “This isn’t high school, Byun, you’re in college now! You should totally come with.”

“I can’t,” Baekhyun says, still not entirely certain his presence would really be welcome. Not to mention the investigating he wants to get back to. “I still have an essay to work on.”

Jongdae scoffs. “If you have the time to waste away playing video games, you have the time to come to a party. Now come on, these are your college years. Live a little!”

Baekhyun sighs, pausing his game and turning to look at Jongdae. “I don’t know… You really think a bunch of seasoned party goers are going to want some nerdy freshman hanging around?”

Jongdae smiles and shakes his head. “Why not? Come one, Baek, you have a whole clean slate to work with here. Besides, you’ve got me and Minnie to make you look cooler.”

“Yeah… I definitely do look cooler when I’m standing next to you two,” Baekhyun grins to himself.

Minseok huffs, pushing Baekhyun’s shoulder playfully. “You’ll have fun, I promise. And if you don’t, we won’t force you to stay.”

Baekhyun glances at his computer with his last bit of reservation. “Okay, I’ll go.”

The neighborhood could do without him for just one night. Besides, lately all he’s been dealing with is petty criminals. If there was some superhuman threat looming in the city, surely he would’ve heard about it by now.

Anyway, Mr. Stark always told him he needed to be more concerned with college than with web-slinging. And his college social life still fell under the college umbrella, didn’t it?

“Yes!” Minseok cheered, hugging one of Baekhyun’s arms and lifting him from his seat. “Except—Hm.” He tilted his head, pushing his lips together in consideration. “Don’t wear that.”

“What?” Baekhyun looked down at his navy sweater vest, pinching the front of it. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know, _grandpa_.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “You’re going to a party, not a golf tournament.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew it was going to come with these terms and conditions,” Baekhyun mock pouts, but he nevertheless pulls off his headset and slips his phone into his pocket.

Releasing Baekhyun, Minseok heads over to his closet. “Hmmm.” He taps his chin thoughtfully then shuffles through the rack. “Ah!” Minseok reaches in and pulls out a pastel button up, turning to face Baekhyun and Jongdae. “Wear this one!”

Baekhyun eyes the top warily, but he nevertheless pulls off his old top and takes the hanger from Minseok, tugging the shirt over his shoulders and buttoning it up.

“Better,” Minseok says, but he’s still examining him. “You really don’t need that much hair gel.” Stepping up to Baekhyun, he runs his fingers through his hair, breaking up the neatly gelled part and ruffling up the locks.

“Okay, okay!” Baekhyun protests, swatting at Minseok’s hand and pushing the now wild and free locks out of his eyes.

Jongdae and Minseok stand together in front of Baekhyun to give him a look over, eyes scanning in such a way that Baekhyun feels exposed despite being fully dressed.

A grin spreads on Jongdae’s face, and he claps the side of Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Looking hot, my man.”

“So hot!” Minseok agrees, humming in amusement as he leans his head on Jongdae’s shoulder and hugs his arm.

Baekhyun shakes his head, but a grin finds its way on his face anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go already.”

Minseok and Jongdae lead the way, and Baekhyun follows. He catches a look of himself in the mirror as they pass by, and the sight that greets him adds a touch of confidence to his step.

A touch that certainly seems to quiet down as they approach the house. Muffled bass can be heard from the block down, and the closer they get, the louder that murmur of chatter from party goers grows. “I have the strangest feeling the people in that house are the same kinds of people that shoved me in lockers back in high school,” Baekhyun says, unable to contain his thoughts to his head.

Ahead of him, Jongdae and Minseok walk together, Jongdae’s arm slung around his boyfriend’s shoulders. He looks back at Baekhyun. “See, this is why we should’ve pre-gamed.”

Minseok spins around ducks under Jongdae’s arm so that he can walk backwards in front of Baekhyun. “We don’t want Baekhyun to get _too_ wasted at his first college party, come on now.” He takes the hems of Baekhyun’s sleeves. “College kids are different than high school kids, and—“ A playful grin appears on Minseok’s lips. “—if it’s any assurance, there’s no lockers in there. Besides,” he winks, “if anyone tries to mess with you, they’ll have to get through me first.”

Of course, Baekhyun doubts that tiny Minseok could fight off oversized jocks, but it did create an amusing mental image. Baekhyun can’t help but grin despite his apprehension. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ruin your guys’ good time with my cold feet.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jongdae says, pulling Minseok to his side again, who in turn grabs Baekhyun, so the three are walking huddled together.

Baekhyun laughs, and through his nerves, he can feel a touch of excitement. It’s nice to feel invited, to feel included. He hopes it lasts.

If the outside of the house was intimidating, the inside is a pure obstacle course. Weaving through people, ducking under arms of individuals who refuse to unclasp their hands, secondhand smoke caught in every breath. Baekhyun wonderd if he might catch a contact high if he stays in here long enough.

His already oversensitive senses are threatened to be pushed into overdrive.

A girl with a low cut top bustles through the other way, almost hitting Baekhyun in the face with her chest. Baekhyun’s eyes widened, and he has to back into a different group of people to avoid getting hit.

“I think I might reach third base before we make it to the other side of the room!” Baekhyun shouts, because he has to shout. Among the din of chatter and the blast of music, it’s the only way he was going to be heard, and even then, it’s questionable.

Every now and again, someone random pops up, shouting, “Hey, Jongdae!” with their hand up, ready to clasp his and pull him into a hug. Minseok, of course, is greeted next.

It’s easy to see how Jongdae could get him into a party like this. None of Baekhyun’s old high school friends—bless them—were as cool as Jongdae. Everyone seems to like him. He had a certain charm about him that could win anyone over. Baekhyun can be sociable, sure, but Jongdae’s different. For one, Baekhyun’s attempts at socializing are often called annoying.

For all of Baekhyun’s academic prowess and physical skills, he just does not have that unique charisma that Jongdae has. He envies it.

Jongdae takes Minseok’s arm, who reaches back with his free hand to grab Baekhyun’s bicep, which makes pushing through the crowd considerably easier. They make their way through different rooms, which Baekhyun guesses from a glance, normally would have looked more distinguished, but the current picture with drinks passed around and people climbing on top of things to dance without their tops on speaks a much different story.

Baekhyun is wondering how much time needs to pass before he can declare himself as not having fun, and almost considers asking aloud as much when Jongdae presses a plastic shot cup into his hand.

“To Baekhyun! Starting off college!” Jongdae valiantly toasts. “When you’re a brilliant scientist billionaire one day, please remember your old friend Jongdae.”

“How could I forget?” Baekhyun laughs, clinking his drink against Jongdae and Minseok’s and letting it burn its way down to his stomach.

His face twists. It’s terrible. However, after a few of them, his blood is warm, his overhyped senses are sufficiently subdued, and the drinks go down with a muted burn.

Baekhyun transitions from awkward observer to participator. Still awkward, though no one comments on it. There’s a makeshift dance floor, where the music is the loudest that Minseok is especially keen on and manages to drag Baekhyun with. He laughs along with Minseok, despite the fact he’s blowing out his eardrums. The girls nearby especially seem to like the impromptu show he and Minseok put on and dance around them.

Later, Baekhyun learns that most college games involve plastic red cups and beer, and he’s happier to watch than try. However, when they find a group of people squished on a small couch in front of a large flat screen, going rounds on various consoles, Baekhyun can’t help but make his way in. A few victories later, and Baekhyun has earned himself some street cred. If only for the night.

There’s always someone to talk to, usually in small groups, and even the large jock types seem to regard him as a buddy rather a nuisance. In fact, no matter what Baekhyun says, no one seems to find him annoying. They even find him funny, which is a nice change of pace. 

The whole experience feels very surreal—which, given the circumstances of the last few years of his life, is definitely saying something. Mostly though, it’s a good feeling. He’s sure he’s spoken to more of his fellow students in the evening than he has at school itself during these first starting weeks. Sure, he’ll probably forget all their names by tomorrow morning, but that only means he’ll have to come out to future festivities, so they can remind him.

As infectious as the atmosphere may be, when Baekhyun finds himself near a door that leads outside, he can’t help but take the opportunity. Although fun, the high energy and large volume of people crammed together leave him craving some cool air and a few minutes of quiet.

Plenty of people are hanging around the backyard as well, but the groups are far more dispersed, and Baekhyun can find some solitude. He leans against the wooden porch rail and takes a deep breath of the cool night air, appreciating the moment to wind down.

He has to admit, it’s not a bad night.

A vaguely familiar tune catches Baekhyun’s ear, and he can’t help but hum along. His eyes absently rove to find the source of the sound. Behind him, the muffled bass blasts from inside the house, periodically blaring louder for a second when anyone opens the door, but it’s not enough to drown out the strum of an acoustic guitar somewhere in the backyard.

Pushing off the rail, Baekhyun lets his ears guide the way as he descends from the porch further into the yard. He stops when his shoes settle into the grass, taking a moment to balance himself before continuing onward. Yeah, he had a few shots, but he’s not to the point of swaggering yet.

Moving through the more open space proves much less challenging than trying to weave his way inside. He comes upon a small group of mostly girls surrounding a table, where a guitarist sits on top of it, strumming his instrument as well as singing along, much to his small audience’s delight.

If he were a little more sober, Baekhyun probably would have stopped there, keeping that bit of distance. However, with his better senses dulled, Baekhyun strolls right in. He does recognize the song, he realizes. The Chainsmoker’s, “Don’t Let Me Down” from a couple summers ago. It was annoying on repeat on the radio at the time, but in the moment—in part thanks to the alcohol and his good mood—it could be the best song ever.

It’s also decidedly better as an acoustic rendition rather than its original electronic piece.

Baekhyun sings along automatically, not even quite consciously aware of himself. With his sense of shame doused in alcohol, he doesn’t think twice about it. The melody calls, and he responds.

The girls nearest Baekhyun turned toward him with bright expressions that catch him off guard. However, he quickly realizes that his singing has caught their attention, and they appear to enjoy it as much as they do the guitarist’s. Giggling, two girls take his arms and sway along with the music. Feeling encouraged, Baekhyun sings a little louder, drifting along with them.

“Take those high notes!” the guitarist calls out, gesturing toward Baekhyun, before returning to the guitar.

Baekhyun belts it, and thankfully, the alcohol does not put a damper on his vocal range. The girls squeal around them.

The guitarist ends the song with a gentle downward strum, and their small audience claps and coos, showering the guitarist and Baekhyun alike with enthusiastic praise.

“Wow, you’re such a good singer!” says one of the girls holding Baekhyun’s arm.

“You are!” chimes another. 

Baekhyun grins sheepishly. Modest as he may appear on the outside, on the inside, he’s still singing. Maybe he really does have a clean slate now. Maybe college kids really are different than high school kids.

He’ll have to thank Minseok and Jongdae for dragging him out later.

“You guys should sing one together!” a girl says suddenly.

Baekhyun blinks, barely processing what was said to him before the girls push him forward. He stumbles a few steps toward the guitarist, catching the edge of the table before he completely takes a tumble.

“I mean—“ Baekhyun says, standing upright and looking up at the guitarist. “If that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” the guitarist replies, his tone friendly. He shifts back on the table to make more room.

It’s then that Baekhyun gets a good look at him. He knows that face. His Biology class. Black waves falling over his forehead, slightly oversized ears, and, and, and—

—the most… _darling_ smile Baekhyun has ever seen on a human being, he’s sure of it.

His face feels warm, and this time he’s sure it’s not because of the alcohol. It’s no wonder he found him surrounded by all these giggling girls.

“Let’s see…” the guitarist says, looking down at the strings as his fingers align against the fret board, and he strums a slow chord. “Do you know this one?”

He starts playing again, this time Alesso’s “Heroes.” Baekhyun nods, turning around to scoot his butt onto the table, legs swinging back and forth over the end. Baekhyun sings along, and the guitarist lets him take the lead.

Their surrounding audience cheers gleefully and start to clap along, holding the tempo with them.

During the chorus, the guitarist takes a lower harmony, complimenting Baekhyun’s voice so seamlessly, it might almost seem like they planned it.

Despite himself, Baekhyun’s eyes keep shifting over to the guitarist, and every time, it seems like the other boy is looking up at him too. His fingers dance over the fretboard effortlessly, every note confident and well practiced. The light in his eyes and brightness of his smile speak of the passion behind the talent, and every time their gazes meet, Baekhyun finds that drawing in breath takes a little more effort than it should.

The audience may be small, but they more than make up for it with their whistles and cheers when the song ends.

“Thank you, thank you,” the guitarist says with a hint of exaggerated bravado as he leans over his guitar in something of a bow. “Go on, you too!” Reaching over, he nudges the spot between Baekhyun’s shoulder blades. “You’ve earned it.”

Baekhyun impulsively sits up a little taller, the spot on his back tingling beneath the guitarist’s fingertips. He glances over at him, grinning slightly before making a show of bowing from his seat as well. The girls trill and giggle in amusement.

“Alright, show stealer,” the guitarist says, shifting his guitar over to the side. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Baekhyun,” he introduces himself, turning to extend a hand to the guitarist.

He takes it and gives it a shake. “Chanyeol,” he says in return, then pauses, still holding Baekhyun’s hand as his eyes subtly narrow. “Wait, I know you. You’re in my Biology class. You’re the nerd that always has the answers to the professor’s questions.”

The girls turn to each other and giggle, a gesture that might normally make Baekhyun feel insecure. However, between the lopsided grin on Chanyeol’s face, and the casual way he sits, Bakehyun can tell that it’s playful more than actually berating.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says nonchalantly. He lets go of Chanyeol’s hand, leaning back slightly with his hands on the table behind him. “I do alright in that class.”

“More than alright, I’d say.” Chanyeol snorts. “You’re smart. Own it.”

Reaching over, Chanyeol lightly punches Baekhyun’s shoulder to emphasize his point. Baekhyun glances down at his loosely curled fist and grins. “Okay, I own it. But it’s not like schoolwork is the only thing I can do.”

“Yeah?” One of Chanyeol’s brows raises in interest. “What else can you do?”

“Well,” Baekhyun hums, lips pursing contemplatively. He hadn’t really counted on his idle remark to be challenged; he just wanted an excuse to keep the conversation going. Now he needs to actually come up with something. Anything.

“I can do a handstand.”

_Dammit._

Chanyeol keeps watching him with an expression Baekhyun can’t quite read.

“With one hand!” Baekhyun adds abruptly before the pause has a chance to extend into an awkward silence.

_Stop, stop, stop!_

“Well, then.” Chanyeol shifts back on the table as though to make room, extending a hand toward the ground ahead of him. “By all means.”

“Here?” Baekhyun glances around uncertainly. Dammit. That’s what he gets for digging himself in this hole.

“Yeah!” Chanyeol insists gleefully. His grin tugs to one side, revealing a dimple on his left cheek that Baekhyun’s eyes immediately zero in on.

_God._

“I mean, if you can really do it,” Chanyeol adds with a shrug.

“Oh, I can do it,” Baekhyun insists, slipping off the table and pushing his sleeves up.

The group watching them all takes a step back to make room. Baekhyun takes a breath, puts his arms over his head, and rolls forward. He catches himself on both hands, and his shirt falls upward, which he hadn’t thought much about until the girls started giggling, eyes lighting up as they close in on each other.

“Wow,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun tilts his head to see him leaning forward enough to peek over the table. “Who would’ve guessed the little nerd had all that hiding underneath?”

“Shut up!” Baekhyun snips, hoping the blood rushing to his head provides sufficient cover for the heat on his face.

“Anyway,” Chanyeol continues. “I believe you said one hand.”

“Oh. Right.” Baekhyun looks up—which given his position, makes him look at his hands pressed against the ground underneath him—and slowly, begins to lift one hand.

He doesn’t need to be as slow and careful about it as he is being. It’s quite simple for him, really, with his enhanced strength and ability to grip any hard surface, no matter its position. Still, his audience doesn’t know that and shouldn’t know that, so Baekhyun is careful about lifting one hand—careful that he doesn’t make this look too easy.

The girls all cheer, and even Chanyeol claps along with them. “Alright, nerd!”

Baekhyun tilts his feet backward and catches himself in a backbend, which once again has the girls giggling and murmuring amongst themselves. He launches his upper body forward, but the alcohol has his equilibrium slightly off, and he’s not so steady on his feet when he’s upright again.

His arms flail a little, but then a strong grasp clutches one of them, holding Baekhyun in place before he can tumble over.

“Gotcha,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun looks up to see the catching hand belongs to him.

Chanyeol’s smiling again, and Baekhyun should probably look away, but it’s infectious, and he finds himself grinning in return.

“Well, then,” Chanyeol says, releasing him. “I think it’s official. I have been upstaged.”

Baekhyun laughs, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to straighten it back out. “Oh, I don’t know about all that.” He glances back at the girls, whose eyes are all now on him, filled with admiration. It’s not a look he’s used to seeing outside of his suit, but the change is pleasant.

Still, he can’t help but berate himself a little. He really should not be using _those_ abilities for party tricks, but maybe there is still part of the old high school outcast in him that still wants the approval of his peers.

Just this once, he promises himself. They’ll probably all forget about it by tomorrow morning, anyway.

His attention turns back to Chanyeol, and there’s a bit of mischief in his voice as he follows up with, “Mysterious, cool guy that plays the guitar. How can I compare?”

Chanyeol laughs. “You’re a funny guy, nerd.”

One of the girls steps forward. “Are you going to play another song?”

“Sorry, ladies, it’s intermission time,” Chanyeol says, pushing his guitar so that it sits on his back and the strap lays diagonally over his chest.

The girls all moan their disappointment.

“Hey, I’ll be back. I have more songs to play. I just need a drink.” He hops off the table and turns toward Baekhyun, slapping him on the side of his shoulder. “What about you?”

Baekhyun has to tilt his head back some, realizing he’s looking up to meet Chanyeol’s eyes when he’s standing. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him, but he hadn’t ever stood this close to him. The boy is all long limbs—very nicely built long limbs from what Baekhyun can see, but that sober part of his brain that’s still awake somewhere insists that he not let his gaze linger.

He realizes he’s taking too long to answer and abruptly clears his throat. “Yeah,” he squeaks, bring his fist to his mouth as he clears his throat again and tries to conceal the embarrassment from the sound he just made. “I can go for another.”

Chanyeol grins in an all too knowing way, moving his hand to the back of Baekhyun’s shoulder as he leads them off.

Baekhyun doesn’t really need another drink, but in that moment, he feels like he might walk anywhere Chanyeol suggests.

What is it about this guy? Besides the fact that he’s absolutely gorgeous and tall and built and plays the guitar and has a dorky smile to die for.

It’s cruel, really.

“You didn’t come here by yourself, did you?” Chanyeol asks.

Baekhyun shakes his head. “No. I came with my dormmate and his boyfriend. They kind of dragged me out here.”

Chanyeol looks over at him with a brow curiously arched. “Who’s your dormmate?”

“His name’s Jongdae,” Baekhyun says.

Chanyeol’s face immediately lights up. “Oh, J.D.!”

Baekhyun blinks in disbelief. “You know him too?” He shakes his head and chuckles. “I sweat, he knows everybody.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol grins. “He’s a cool guy.”

They make their way back up the porch and into the house. In the kitchen, Chanyeol heads for the cupboard, reaching past all the dry goods to pull out the liquor he had apparently stashed there. “Anyway,” he says, pouring a little in two cups then grabbing from the abundance of two-liters lined out to dilute them. He offers one to Baekhyun. “I’m glad they were able to drag you out.”

Baekhyun accepts it, looking up at Chanyeol with a grin. “Me too.”

Their content moment is interrupted when, without warning, the hairs on the back of Baekhyun’s neck raise. He sets his drink down on the counter and impulsively grabs Chanyeol’s bicep in one swift movement.

“CHECK IT OUT! I’M SPIDER-MAN!” An oversized jock had shaken up two cans of beer, letting the tops burst into streams of foam that he supposes was meant to look like web shooters.

Baekhyun yanks them both out of the line of fire. He even catches the bottom of Chanyeol’s cup before any of his drink can spill.

The people around them groan their annoyance at the display, with a slew of choice words for the offender, but Baekhyun is more focused on the realization of what he had just done. Embarrassed, he let’s go of Chanyeol. “Sorry.”

Chanyeol eyes shift from Baekhyun to the top of his cup, blinking as he stares down into it. Then he chuckles and shakes his head, looking back up at Baekhyun. “Don’t be. I would’ve been pissed if he had gotten booze all over my guitar. I don’t think the real Spider-Man would be a jackass like that.”

Baekhyun bites on the inside of his lower lip to keep the impending grin at bay, reaching over to take his own drink. “No, I don’t think so either.”

“Doubt he’d spend his free time hanging around a bunch of lame frat boys, anyway,” Chanyeol says with a chuckle.

Baekhyun holds his cup in both hands, grinning against the rim as he takes a sip. “Oh, I don’t know, you might be surprised.”

“What?” Chanyeol turns so that he’s fully facing Baekhyun. “Do you know him?”

“No!” Too fast. Shit. “But I mean, none of us do. We don’t know what he’s like.”

“Maybe.” Chanyeol shrugs before taking a drink from his own cup. “I still doubt it.”

“So.” Baekhyun’s bottom lip lingers against the rim of the cup. He knows he’s skirting territory he shouldn’t, but that sweet face looking down at him is all too tempting. “Are you a Spider-fan then?”

“Hell yeah, who isn’t?” Chanyeol says with that trademark dorky grin. “Our very own local super hero here, saving the day. He’s practically an Avenger!”

Drinking is a good way to hide his smile, Baekhyun decides. “Yeah, but some of those news reports about him…”

“They’re full of it.” Chanyeol waves a hand dismissively, shaking his head. “He’s a hero. He’s saving the city, and they know it, but that doesn’t sell as well as a made up scandal. Anyway, anyone that says they don’t like him is a jealous asshole that’s lying to themselves. Spider-Man’s awesome.”

This time, Baekhyun can’t bring himself to hide his smile.

Goosebumps prickle Baekhyun’s skin, but when he spins around to face imminent danger, he’s greeted by a rosy-cheeked Minseok. He crashes into Baekhyun, throwing his arms around him. “There, you are!”

Jongdae strolls up more casually. “We couldn’t find you. Minseok was beside himself.” He shakes his head at his boyfriend. “I told you he was fine doing his own thing.” It’s then that he notices Chanyeol, looking up at him with a nod. “Hey, Chanyeol.” “J.D., Min,” Chanyeol nods in return. “So this little nerd belongs to you two, eh?”

Baekhyun huffs. “You can drop that nickname any time now.”

“Mm, no can do,” Chanyeol hums. “It’s so fitting.”

“Oh, would you look at that?” Minseok coos. “Baekhyun is making friends and having fun. It’s almost like I was right all along.”

“Haha,” Baekhyun says flatly, pushing Minseok away by his face.

“Yeollie!” a girl’s voice squeals, and they all turn their attention to see the group of girls filing in through the back door. They rush over and grab his arms. “You said you were going to come back and play for us!”

“Alright, alright,” he says, holding one hand up in defeat while he finishes off his drink with the other. “I was just talking to some friends.”

“Well, _Yeollie_ , we don’t want to keep you from your entourage,” Jongdae says, touching both Baekhyun and Minseok’s shoulders to guide them away. “Besides, the guys are setting up Kings, and the nerd needs to learn how to play.”

Baekhyun looks over at Jongdae scandalized. However, he can’t hold offense to the nickname for too long as he realizes that he and Chanyeol are parting ways, which is a more distressing subject. Nevertheless, their respective groups seem set on it, and he’s hesitant to make a scene.

“Catch you later, man,” Chanyeol says to Jongdae with a nod of his head. He looks to Baekhyun and grins. “See you ‘round, nerd.”

Baekhyun can’t even bring himself to pout, grinning as he replies, “See ya!”

Jongdae and Minseok lead him out of the kitchen. Before he crosses the threshold into the rest of the house though, Baekhyun looks back over his shoulder. He catches Chanyeol looking back over his own as the girls drag him to the back door. Their eyes meet, and Chanyeol smiles.

Baekhyun smiles back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For funsies: Acoustics covers of [Don't Let Me Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SqDGv5WB48) and [Heroes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KyrOKAOG_o).
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [ninibearr](https://ninibearr.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Comments are love!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who commented last chapter! It's my first time writing for this fandom, so I wasn't sure what to expect as far as feedback, but all your kind words were very encouraging! Anyway, I wanted to get this posted before the comeback because I know I'm not going to be able to focus when it hits, lol.
> 
> Also, thanks again @ByunBae for the cheer-leading and not letting me get distracted with other ideas, lol. You're the best!

The door to Baekhyun’s Biology class looms ahead.

In the days since the party, Baekhyun may or may not have found himself in public spaces more often. Spending more time in the courtyard and the dorm lounge, lingering in halls longer than he probably needed to, glancing up at corners and doors with a touch of expectancy in his eyes anytime someone came through.

And it had nothing to do with getting a certain tall, handsome classmate that he had only encountered briefly at a party. No, not at all.

Every step closer to the Biology door, however, is like a chip to that resolve of denial. Baekhyun unconsciously wipes his palms against the pockets of his pants.

Baekhyun shakes his head. This is ridiculous. He has too many other priorities to keep him occupied to concern himself with a classmate he doesn’t even really know. He takes a breath, pushing the door open, decidedly set that he’s not going to worry about distractingly attractive people.

Then his eyes meet Chanyeol’s, and the taller boy smiles, and that declaration immediately collapses on top of its own poor foundation.

Baekhyun tries to smile back, but he has this distinct feeling with the way his features twist that he actually made a rather odd expression. He doesn’t wait to find out though, gripping the straps of his backpack and heading up the stairs to his seat.

As he settles down on his seat, he can see a shaggy scruff of black curls out of the corner of his eye a few rows ahead of him. He pointedly tries to ignore it, pulling out his laptop and other materials for class.

“What is the difference between a facultative and obligate parasite?” the professor asks while he scribbles away on the white board behind his desk.

Baekhyun’s hand impulsively shoots up.

The professor turns around, hands planting on his hips, and when he looks up at the class, he sighs. “Anyone besides Byun?”

The class laughs quietly, and Baekhyun shifts down in his seat a little, forcing a small grin on his face.

“I know!”

Baekhyun looks over, surprised to see that Chanyeol’s hand is stretched up in their air.

The Professor blinks, also seemingly caught off guard by this, but he nevertheless gestures encouragingly toward Chanyeol. “By all means, Park.”

Chanyeol lowers his hand and clears his throat. “A facultative parasite doesn’t necessarily require a host for its survival, but an obligate parasite must have a host in order to complete its life cycle.”

The professor’s eyebrows raise, and he nods, impressed. “Not bad, Park. That is correct.” The confirmation transitions into the beginning of the day’s lecture as he turns toward the white board again.

Baekhyun watches Chanyeol with a curious gaze. The words spill from his lips before he can stop himself: “ _Who’s_ the nerd?”

Chanyeol looks back at him with that award-winning smile, extending his curled fist toward him with his thumb pointed upward.

Baekhyun grins, but then the professor clears his throat, and Baekhyun’s attention returns to the front of the classroom. “Sorry, sir.”

Pulling his laptop in front of him as a cover of sorts, Baekhyun bites his bottom lip to stifle the smile that wants to curl on his lips. It only half works.

At the end of the class, Baekhyun is hunched over in his chair as he gets the last of his materials tucked away in his backpack before pulling it up. He sits back up to see Chanyeol standing in front of his desk, leaning forward slightly with his hands propped against the edge.

Something glints in Chanyeol’s eyes, but before Baekhyun can fully register it, he blinks, and it’s gone.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says, unable to conceal the surprise—albeit not an unpleasant one—in his tone.

“Hey,” Chanyeol replies with a grin. “Hope you weren’t too hungover after that party the other night.

Baekhyun had been very hungover the next day, but Chanyeol doesn’t need to know that. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he says.

“Oh, of course,” Chanyeol says, not looking entirely convinced. “Anyway, if you ever wanted someone to study with, maybe one of these nights we could get together over coffee?”

Baekhyun blinks, as caught off guard by the suggestion as he was by Chanyeol’s presence at his desk. A playful grin draws on his lips though as he rises from the desk and slings his backpack over one shoulder. “Like a study buddy?”

Chanyeol chuckles. “Yeah. I mean—not like you need one. But still, wouldn’t hurt to compare notes, right?”

“I suppose not,” Baekhyun replies, fingers curling against the strap of his backpack as though doing so would contain his excitement.

“Great!” Dipping his hand into the pocket of his hoodie, Chanyeol fishes out his phone, unlocking it before holding it out to Baekhyun. “Go ahead and put your number in there. I’ll text you, and we can work out a good time.”

Baekhyun nods, taking the phone, and for a moment, he hesitates. Remnants of old high school insecurities prod the back of his mind. He glances up at Chanyeol as though expecting him to reveal that this is some big joke, and Baekhyun’s the butt of it.

Chanyeol does no such thing though. He just smiles at him with that expression on his face that manages to be both dorky and completely gorgeous.

Losing himself to it would be only too easy.

Shaking his head out of his almost-trance, Baekhyun’s brow creases as he furiously thumbs his name and number into the phone, double checking that he got it correct before smiling and handing the phone back to Chanyeol. “There you go.”

“Great!” Chanyeol pockets his phone and grabs his own backpack strap, pointing a finger gun at Baekhyun before turning away. “Catch ya later, nerd!”

“Hey!” Baekhyun sputters indignantly. “ _You’re_ a nerd!”

Reaching the bottom of the steps, Chanyeol turns around, smirking at Baekhyun as he walks backward. “Oh, I sure hope you can come up with better comebacks than that.”

Baekhyun lifts his chin a fraction and crosses his arms in a sort of mock offense. “You’re just lucky my head’s still in school mode. You just wait until later. _Then_ you’ll see!”

“Well, at least you have a few days to work on it, study buddy.” Chanyeol throws Baekhyun a wink before turning and leaving the classroom.

Baekhyun descends the risers, and he’s only just down the corridor once he leaves the classroom when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulls it up to see a text from a number not in his contacts.

_’this is chanyeol. so u can have my number too’_

Baekhyun saves the number. Once again, he bites onto the inside of his lower lip as though that might stop him from grinning, and also once again, it does not.

He can’t stop smiling the whole rest of the day.

\-----

Spider-Man hums to himself as he scurries down the side of a building, shooting his web at an adjacent wall, and gripping the edge of it, so he can kick off and soar through the air. His limbs flourish to a greater excess than usual as he swings, but he just can’t help himself. He felt like he was flying all day when his feet were bound to the ground, and now that he’s in the air, the world feels limitless.

Yanking himself up, he flips through the air then dives downward, seemingly heading straight for the ground. However, at the last moment, he shoots another silk strand, anchoring to an overhead concrete ledge leading to an enclosed loading dock, swinging inside. Closing in on the ceiling of the enclosure, he releases the web, hands and feet planting against the horizontal surface in defiance of the rules of gravity.

Spider-Man quiets. He crawls across the ceiling, avoiding the stretches of light in the corner while maintaining a close vicinity to the loading bay. The steel door is lifted, and a van is backed up to it with the back doors open.

He waits. Although he could try to track down his targets inside the warehouse, the setup they have left to return to outside is just too convenient.

In the end, Spider-Man’s patience pays off. An alarm sounds and the steel double doors move open, as three grown men come shuffling with a squeaky hand trolley, loaded with crates.

It’s party time.

Two of the men run into the back of the van while the third jumps off of the loading bay, running to the front of the vehicle.

Tethering his web to the ceiling, Spider-Man swings down with his legs out, slamming into the driver right as he grabs the door handle. “You didn’t really think that patsy leading the police on a wild goose chase was going to fool me, did you?” he says, releasing the web and back flipping into a landing.

Another one of the men swings around the door at the back of the van, pointing a gun and firing without restraint.

Spider-Man yelps, spinning to narrowly avoid the fire. Jumping into the air, he shoots a strand for the ceiling, pulling himself up so that he hangs upside down, knees bent.

“I believe I will be taking that,” he says as another shot of web grabs the man’s gun and yanks it from his grasp.

Expectedly, the third man curls around the corner with a gun as well. Dropping from the ceiling and out of the line of fire as bullets collide with the concrete, Spider-Man nets his gun as well. He tosses them both well out of reaching distance, twisting his body around. The roof of the van dents under the weight of his palm and feet as he lands on top of it.

The back doors of the van start to close. “Oh no, you don’t!” Spider-Man shouts, running across the roof. Leaping off, he flips around, hooking a strand to one of the doors as he lands along the dock, yanking it open before it can close.

One of the men runs for him, and Spider-Man lets him. His fists fly, but compared to Spider-Man’s enhanced reflexes, the man might as well be moving in slow motion. Catching his wrists is easy, and Spider-Man wrenches him into the air and slams him to the ground.

The second man lunges for his back, wrapping his arms around him. Spider-Man elbows him in the gut, forcing the man to keel over with a heavy grunt. He spins around with his leg extended, catching the side of his head with his heel, sending him flying to the ground with his partner.

Running to the back of the van, Spider-Man pulls both doors wide open, approaching the nearest crate. “Didn’t your mothers ever tell you it was rude to take things that weren’t yours?” he quips, bracing his palms against the lid of the crate and wrenching it open to find…

Nothing.

The whites of his lenses dilate as only an empty crate sits before him.

Spider-Man spins around, marching back onto the dock toward the nearest man. “Hey, what gives?” he demands, leaning over to grab him by his collar, yanking his shoulders off the ground.

The man’s eyes roll deliriously, struggling to find Spider-Man’s face. He smiles a bloody grin. “Y-You didn’t think we wouldn’t expect you to be here, did ya?”

Spider-Man leans in closer. “What?”

Goosebumps prickle down the back of his neck, and Spider-Man has only a second to launch himself into a sideways flip, narrowly missing a blast of gun shots erupting from the space between the van and the warehouse door.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” he huffs, skidding into a landing on the ground.

Another van comes hauling around the corner with a spray of more bullets, sending Spider-Man back into the air and latching onto the ceiling. He looks up to see a man hanging out the passenger window with an automatic. The first van had only been a decoy, Spider-Man realizes, much to his annoyance.

Silk flies for the automatic weapon, but the van accelerates too quickly, and it splatters against the ground next to the hot tread marks left by the screeching wheels.

“Minor setback. Just a minor setback,” Spider-Man grumbles. Dropping to the ground, he rolls out his land and is quickly on his feet, running after the speeding car.

The engine roars, shooting out a cloud of smoke from the exhaust, and Spider-Man leaps from one side to the next to dodge the attack of bullets as he pursues the vehicle. He knows there’s no way he’s going to catch them on foot. He launches a web to the ceiling, using the leverage to propel himself forward, then holds out both wrists, gripping the back of the van with two more ropes of web.

Giving them a hard tug, he pulls himself right to the back door, planting his feet against the back bumper. He stays crouched beneath the back windows, all too aware of the shooter still in the passenger seat. The car screeches, tires bouncing up the incline as it hauls out of the enclosure’s opening.

“Great,” he mutters. This is exactly what he didn’t want, taking this fight into the public space of traffic.

If only someone had told him to be careful what he wished for.

Metal crunches, glass shatters, and for a moment, the back two tires of the van leave the ground. The tires squeal, and the van skids to an unwitting stop, wrenching the vehicle into a spin. The abruptness and sheer force of it has Spider-Man launching into the air. He arcs himself backward to regain control of his mobility, web zipping from his extended arms to grab onto a nearby streetlamp. He spins around it then lands against the pole, perched sideways with his knees bent, feet and both hands against it.

On the front of the van stands a hooded figure, clad in all black. They may have seemed fairly innocuous, except for the fact that they tethered themselves to the front of the vehicle with thick, tentacle-like extensions projecting from over its shoulders, bulging and sticky.

Curdling screams erupt from the inside of the van, growing louder until the dark figure lifts his arms. Spider-Man realizes that they too have stretched into broad, disproportionate extensions that have completely twisted around both man’s bodies.

Horror fills the men’s screams, and Spider-Man can hardly blame them. However, before he has a chance to react, the figure casts them aside.

Using the pole as leverage, Spider-Man spins himself around and leaps for the van, landing on top of the roof. “Hey, you!” he shouts, catching the figure’s attention. His lenses widen, the camera zooming in to see a mask covering the figures face—not entirely unlike his own. However, the eyes of the mask are stark white against the black, twisting up to the figures temples.

“First of all,” he says, pointing at the figure. “I had this all under control, so thanks, but um, yeah, wasn’t needed. Second—and I do say this with the utmost respect—but um… who the _hell_ are you?”

Sirens blare before the figure can answer, growing louder as police vehicles hurl around the corner. In moments, the scene is swarmed by authorities and reporters alike.

The hooded figure takes one look at the incoming crowd and launches into the air, their sticky black appendages extending abnormally and grabbing onto the walls to pull them up higher, allowing them to swiftly flee the scene.

“Hey, I was talking to you!” Spider-Man shouts indignantly. Police file in, raising their guns toward the figure, shouting at them to stand down.

On the ground, the criminals groan and sputter, unable to do much more than writhe as the police circle in around them.

“Spider-Man,” the police chief shouts up him from the ground. “We’re going to need a statement.”

“Rain check.” Looking up, Spider-Man shoots his web ahead of him and pulls himself into the air. He launches another and then another, until he is swinging onto the very top of the building landing onto the roof.

The hooded figure is nowhere to be seen, and Spider-Man runs over to the edge to see if he can’t spot them from this vantage point. The effort is in vain, however, and regrettable as it might be, Spider-Man can’t say that he’s entirely surprised.

His eye lenses narrow, head dropping forward as he pinched the bridge of his nose through the mask.

“In the words of George Lucas… I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

\-----

“Hi, there! It’s currently seven a.m. Looks like it’ll be a cloudy day with a high of 61 degrees Fahrenheit.“

Baekhyun grumbles, fingers smacking against his desk to find his phone.

“I’ll update you on today’s news, provided by Google. Report: Spider-Man thwarts a heist believed to be operated by underground syndicates the city’s police have been tailing for months, but the real question is: who is the web-slinger’s apparent new partner?”

Snatching the phone from the counter, Baekhyun’s face wriggles out of his blanket pile, his brow furrowed as he pulls the blue lit screen to his face. “So not a partner.”

Glancing across the room, he makes sure Jongdae is sleeping before turning to his phone again. Usually, he ignores his alarm’s news reports, but after last night’s impromptu meeting with tall, dark, and tentacle-y, he wants all the information he can get.

He’s not entirely surprised that the article contains very little useful information. More specifically, it contains none.

“Didn’t need his help,” he grumbles, his lower lip pouting. “And why are they heralding him as a hero, when I was called a public menace for years? Can’t just ride my coattails. Gotta earn your own keep.”

At least… he thinks it’s a guy. Maybe he’s wrong to assume.

With a sigh, he sets his phone aside, the joints in his shoulders and back popping as his arms stretch overhead. Baekhyun grunts out loud before releasing a breath as his body lets go of the stretch. Sitting up, he slings his legs over the side of the bed, pressing the bottom corner of his palm between his eyebrows.

He rubs there vigorously as though that might clear the remnants of morning brain frog and also bring back memories from the previous night.

Baekhyun drops his hand and scowls at the ground. Who was that person? Or perhaps the better question would be… _what_ were they?

Their “suit” hardly seemed like much of a suit. More like they threw together a collection of black clothing that gave them a fairly free range of movement with a mask pulled over his head. It almost reminded him of the suit he had put together for himself before Suho Stark came to him with that first of many hefty upgrades.

That thought only annoys Baekhyun all the more.

However, one question sat in his mind far above everything else. Were they friend or foe? Nothing about the guy screamed hero. The shrill screams of the men he ripped from the car continue to haunt the back of Baekhyun’s mind, and yet…

He had stopped those men. Yes, Baekhyun could have stopped them on his own. Maybe it would’ve taken a little bit longer—a little bit. Nevertheless, stopping them seemed to be figure’s prime motivation, and if he had fled to go cause trouble elsewhere, surely he would have spotted him. At the very least, the news would’ve reported it.

Still, Baekhyun hadn’t heard any information of a new hero in the area from Mr. Stark, and if the figure really is an ally, why hadn’t he said anything to him last night?

Baekhyun sighs, forcing himself up from bed to get ready for the day. There is a lot he wants to know, but one thing is for certain: he’s sure that’s not the last he’s going to see of them.

Glancing over at his backpack, he considers reviewing video footage from the previous night. It will have to wait though. College life calls.

Baekhyun’s school day goes over like any other—except, of course, his mind doing its damndest to distract him. If it’s not Chanyeol, then it’s mysterious hooded potential allies or enemies.

That evening, he lies on his stomach on his bed with his laptop open in front of him. His planner displays on the screen, and Baekhyun clicks spots and drags them around to rearrange his schedule. Recent events have cut into his homework time, but he left free spaces for such possible occasions, and overall, is still very much on top of his school work.

Baekhyun grins, pressing his hands together in front of him as he congratulates himself over his time management skills. College life and hero life. It’s not an easy balance, but he knew he could do it.

R2D2 chirps from his buzzing phone. Baekhyun pulls it out of his pocket and holds it in front of him. His eyes light up at the sight of the text awaiting him.

_’hey, nerd. what’s thursday night looking like for ya?’_

And for a moment, Baekhyun completely forgets about his mysterious hooded figure problem.

\-----

The day leading up to his and Chanyeol’s study meeting, Baekhyun is so fed up with himself. Every time he thinks about it, he wonders what he should wear (since apparently sweater vests are for grandpas—which sucks because he has so many), and worries about things like, what if Chanyeol thinks he’s too nerdy? Or finds him annoying?

Nevertheless, every time his mind is about to overload with over thinking, he abruptly smacks himself in the head. He and Chanyeol are just studying together. It’s not a big deal. Chanyeol probably isn’t flipping out like this.

Right?

Not to mention that for all Baekhyun knows, Chanyeol might not even be into guys.

“ _Chill out, chill out, chill out,_ ” Baekhyun hisses repeatedly to himself like an urgent mantra. Approaching the café, he stops outside the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open.

Right away, he spots Chanyeol, sitting against one of the counters. He’s got a cap pulled on backwards, showing of his forehead. “Hey!” he says, with a wave of his hand and that trademark adorable smile. Sliding from the stool and tucking his belongings under one arm, he heads over to Baekhyun.

“Hey,” Baekhyun grins. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.” He once again notes how he has to tilt his head back to look up at Chanyeol, which he reflects that he likes, perhaps a little too much.

“Nah,” Chanyeol says with a dismissive wave, still grinning. “I just got here.”

“Oh, good.”

They turn toward the counter to order drinks and snacks, and then find a table where they can sit together, away from the murmur of other patrons. 

Baekhyun pulls out his laptop, booting it up, while Chanyeol does the same with his own. Chanyeol reaches over into his backpack to pull something out, which Baekhyun soon realizes is a pair of glasses with oversized frames that he pushes onto his nose.

God, as if he couldn’t get cuter.

Chanyeol blinks behind the frames, his attention shifting from his screen over to Baekhyun’s. “That’s taking awhile to boot,” he says. “How many processes do you have on startup? If you want, I can have a look at it sometime and see if I can’t get it running faster for you.”

Baekhyun lifts a curious eyebrow, a little caught off guard. Chanyeol keeps watching the screen though as the OS finally loads. “I can show you better antivirus freeware. I know all kinds of places for goodies that are way better than any of the school resources.” 

Eyes narrowing, Chanyeol points to an icon in the corner. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Nothing!” On impulse, Baekhyun grabs his laptop and shifts the screen from Chanyeol’s view.

Chanyeol immediately lifts his hands, looking at Baekhyun with the expression of a lost puppy. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Baekhyun says, relaxing, turning his laptop, so it’s in Chanyeol’s view again. “It’s just something I use for my Stark internship, and most of it is really classified.”

Eyes widening, Chanyeol drops his jaw—he does not hold back on his expressions, Baekhyun thinks. It’s almost comical.

“Wait, back up a second,” Chanyeol says, his features shifting into a more considering expression. “Stark internship? As in Stark Enterprises? Like Suho Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man himself?”

“Yeah…” Baekhyun’s grins sheepishly. It would be one thing if he had intended to impress Chanyeol with that, but the truth is he’s just so used to referring to it so casually that he occasionally forgets how surprising it can be at first. “It’s really not as big of a deal as it sounds.”

“Um. Yeah, it is,” Chanyeol coughs out a chuckle, eyebrows raised and nodding emphasis to every word. “You’re talking about working for Suho Stark. Sweeping the floor at Avengers Tower would be a big deal.”

Baekhyun smiles and scrunches up his shoulders. “Okay, yeah, it’s kind of impressive.”

“Understatement of the year, nerd.” Reaching over, Chanyeol nudges Baekhyun’s shoulders with two fingers. “What other secrets you hiding?”

Baekhyun rubs him mouth to contain his amusement. Oh, if only he knew. His arm drops loosely to the table. “Well, apparently, I’m not the only one. Right, tech support?”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, but he’s still grinning. “Yeah… that’s not even close to Stark internship level. But I mean… if you ever feel the inclination to put in the good word.”

Baekhyun shrugs. “Sure.”

Chanyeol opens his mouth, then closes it, like he’s realized Baekhyun said something different than what he was expecting. “Wait, really?” he asks instead.

“I mean, I can’t make any promises,” Baekhyun replies. “But sure, I can mention you. You’re gonna have to show me some of these computer skills before I go making blind recommendations though.”

“That’s no problem,” Chanyeol says with a dismissive wave. Then his expression softens. “But seriously, that would be really cool. I don’t know how I’d ever repay you. I guess I can’t get too butthurt over you upstaging me again.”

Baekhyun arches a brow. “Upstaging?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “How am I supposed to impress you with my mad computer skills, if you already have a Stark internship?”

Baekhyun snorts and shakes his head. He exhales as his gaze fall on Chanyeol’s face, almost like he’s really seeing him for the first time, up close and without alcohol to distort his perception. His eyes are big and bright behind the lenses of his glasses, lips curled into a smirk just enough to bring out the most adorable dimple on his left cheek.

Here, Chanyeol downplayed his own talents in face of the name Stark, but really, he was handsome as hell, musically inclined, built like a football player but a dork at heart. Ugh, it’s getting more unfair by the second.

“What?” Chanyeol breaks the silence.

Baekhyun blinks, realizing he was looking too long, pulling his laptop closer to him as though he could hide behind it. He can’t exactly hide his grin though. “You’re just… not what I expected.”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol replies with a curious tilt of his head.

“Well, I just mean…” Baekhyun looks up and purses his lips as he considers it. “You seem so laid back, and you pull out your guitar, and the girls are all over you. You’re that cool guy, who doesn’t even have to try, not like someone who is…”

“Is smart?” Chanyeol supplies for him.

“I’m sorry!” Baekhyun says immediately, waving his hands as though he could redact the whole subject. “That’s not what I meant. I only mean… shit, can I start over?”

Chanyeol, however, just laughs. “It’s okay, I get it.” He shrugs. “Music’s easy to share. Tech stuff is kind of a solo gig. But I’m not a trust fund kid, and my parents probably wouldn’t have been able to put me here, if not for scholarships. I just usually don’t speak up during class.” He meets Baekhyun’s eye, lips quirking deviously. “Or at least, I didn’t used to. Impressing you with the right answers has been pretty motivating lately though.”

“In that case, you’re welcome,” Baekhyun breathes a laugh and shakes his head, carrying on as though Chanyeol had not just said something immensely flattering that tugged right at his chest.

Not to mention, it was the second time Chanyeol admitted to trying to impress him, and Baekhyun has to mentally chastise himself to keep from thinking on it too much.

“Alright,” Chanyeol says, interlacing his fingers and stretching his arms out in front of him until his knuckles crack. His fingers wriggle, and he grabs his laptop. “Any chance we can put off study hour, so you can tell me about what Suho Stark’s like in person?”

“Nope,” Baekhyun says with a grin as light as his tone. “Impress me with your notes, and I might consider it later. Possibly.”

“Well, then, prepare to be blown away,” Chanyeol says. “Alright, so about them parasites.”

Both systems caught up to speed and Biology notes spread out in front of them, the two go about their studying. Baekhyun is normally pretty diligent about his academics anyway, but he has to admit, working with Chanyeol makes the task much more enjoyable and less chore-like. Chanyeol’s unexpected academic skills are certainly a bonus.

Their drinks turn into empty cups, crumbs and crumpled napkins remaining in the wake of their snacks, and somewhere along the way, their laptops had respectively entered sleep mode. Baekhyun couldn’t point to when, exactly, but their conversation had transitioned from parasites and school to much more personal topics. Coming into the café, Baekhyun felt like a bundle of nerves, but Chanyeol is actually rather easy to talk to.

Chanyeol tells him about his history with computers. He’s always been good at them. Too good, perhaps, as it got him into a bit of trouble when he was younger. His parents and teachers managed to steer his digital prowess into the right direction though.

In turn, Baekhyun tells Chanyeol about his own life. He even opens up to him about being raised by his aunt and uncle, and in the more recent years, only his aunt.

Chanyeol frowns. “Shit,” he says quietly. “That’s a lot to go through, especially that young. I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. He doesn’t like pity, and he certainly doesn’t want to put a damper on the mood. “It’s okay. My aunt and I have each other.” The corner of his lips tug into a wry grin. “The downside is that because it’s only us now, my aunt turns into such a worrywart and gets way overprotective at times.”

Chanyeol snorts. “Worry about you? What is she worried a nerd like you is going to get into? Studying so hard that you give yourself a headache?”

“Bully,” Baekhyun scoffs, reaching over to lightly swat at Chanyeol’s arm. “And anyway, don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical to call me that, _techie_?”

“What? Takes one to know one, right?” Chanyeol says with a laugh. “I’m only giving you a hard time. You’re smart, and you work hard, I like it. Besides,” with a wide grin, Chanyeol tilts his head as he rests his cheek on his hand, “you’re really damn cute when you get all pouty.”

“I’m not pouty,” Baekhyun pouts… pointedly ignoring the irony. However, it’s hard to hold a stern expression when he can feel his cheeks start to warm. He brings a curled hand to his mouth to try to hide the truth that’s surely showing on his face, not to mention the permanent grin that seems to want to fix itself on his lips now.

Chanyeol’s grin widens knowingly a moment, but then it fades as he lowers his arm. “But seriously, it’s pretty cool to see that you’re this sweet, smart guy after all that. I bet your parents would be real proud, if they saw you now. Your uncle too.”

Baekhyun lowers his own hand, humbled and momentarily at a loss for words. “Wow, Chanyeol,” he finally says softly. “Thank you.”

“Sorry, boys,” says a female voice, and they both look up to see one of staff passing by their table. “We’re closing up now.”

Chanyeol pulls out his phone to check the time. “Damn. Hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.”

“Me either,” Baekhyun says, just as surprised. Spending time with present company certainly seemed to make time fly.

They pack up their belongings and toss out their trash before heading outside, walking back to the dormitories. Inside the building, they come to a stop down one of the corridors.

“My dorm is down here,” Baekhyun explains, turning to face Chanyeol. “Um…” He unconsciously tugs at the hems of his sleeves. For as easy as it had been to talk to Chanyeol at the café, he finds his nerves starting to flutter again now that it’s time to say their goodbyes. “It was nice studying with you.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol grins. Then he looks down, bouncing lightly his own toes and fiddling with the strap of his backpack like he’s having trouble finding words as well. It’s only for a moment though, and his gaze lifts back up to Baekhyun’s. “Maybe sometime we could go to that café again, but not to study. Just us.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun says, blinking, but then he grins and nods. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Chanyeol grins, turning away and throwing a wave over his shoulder as he heads toward the staircase. “Goodnight, Baekhyun.”

“Goodnight.”

Baekhyun turns into the corridor leading to his dorm. He makes it a few steps in when he pauses, the way his name sounded coming from Chanyeol’s lips replaying in his mind.

Warmth fills his face, and he laughs wistfully, a definite skip in his step as he resumes his way back to his dorm room.

Even if it is his room, Baekhyun has learned that by sharing a dorm with someone who has a boyfriend, it is really a good idea to knock first in the evening. The muffled, “Come in!” from the other side confirms they must be decent.

Still, it’s not like Baekhyun even really looks their direction when he sweeps through the doorway, light on his feet all the way over to his bed. He drops his backpack at the foot and flops backward onto the mattress with his arms sprawled. A sigh escapes his lips, and he smiles up at the ceiling.

Distantly, the sounds of a movie coming from small speakers register in the back of his mind, but he is too focused on his thoughts of the past couple hours to pay it much mind.

“Did one of those top floor boys get you high?” a voice finally interrupts his thoughts. Specifically, Jongdae’s voice.

Baekhyun’s head rolls to the side, and he sees Jongdae seated up in the corner of his bed with Minseok cuddled up against him. There’s a laptop setup just ahead of them, and from the sounds of miniature explosions and shouting coming from it, they must be watching an action movie.

“No,” he says.

“You sure?” Jongdae asks. “That display sure said otherwise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that.”

Baekhyun frowns. “I’m not high!”

“Okay, okay!” Jongdae says, lifting his free arm.

He goes back to watching his movie, and Baekhyun is about to go back to staring out the ceiling, when Minseok gasps sharply, taking both their attentions.

Minseok’s face brightens with a sudden realization. Letting go of Jongdae, he sits upright. “It’s Chanyeol, isn’t it? You were meeting him tonight.” He scoots his way over to the edge of Jongdae’s bed, slinging his legs over the side. His hands grab the edge of the mattress on either side of his thighs, and he leans forward. “How’d it go?”

“The movie’s still going,” Jongdae says to Minseok’s back. “Should I pause it, or…?”

Minseok doesn’t answer though. Instead his eyes light up as he continues talking to Baekhyun. “The way you grin when you read his texts… I knew it. I knew it!”

“Okay, I guess I’m pausing it,” Jongdae says mostly to himself, grunting as he leans forward for his laptop.

Baekhyun chuckles and shakes his head. “We only met up to study, Min.”

Minseok regards him with an incredulous inclination of his head. “You got dressed up and everything. You even did that cute shaggy thing with your hair.”

Reaching up, Baekhyun runs his fingers through a few strands as though he had only just realized it and had not been fretting over it only hours earlier. “I just didn’t put gel in it. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Minseok’s snorts, leaning back slightly as he watches Baekhyun cooly, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “But you do like him?”

“Well—“ Baekhyun hesitates. It’s not that Baekhyun’s unaware of his own feelings. He’s not stupid. It’s more that if he avoids giving said emotions names then he doesn’t have to face them. However, with Minseok asking him so bluntly, there’s no getting around them.

Yeah, he’s crushing on Chanyeol hard.

The heat that creeps up his face is more of an admission than anything he could have said, and Baekhyun covers his face with his hands.

“I knew it!” Minseok launches himself from Jongdae’s bed, his torso landing on Baekhyun’s. He grabs Baekhyun’s arm, shaking him, though Baekhyun’s hands remain glued to his face. “Oh, come on. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Chanyeol’s fucking hot.”

“Yeah, I’m still in here,” Jongdae says.

“Not as hot as you, dear,” Minseok says with only a hint of irony in his sweetened tone.

“I mean, he does have a point, Baek,” Jongdae adds with a more casual tone. “The kid is hot.”

“I know!” Baekhyun groans into his hands.

Minseok gasps again, ceasing his assault on Baekhyun’s arm but still clutching onto it tight. “You know what I just realized?”

“Dare I ask?” Baekhyun mumbles, opening his hands just enough to peek at Minseok’s face.

“You two met at the party that _I_ dragged you to,” Minseok says, shifting on the bed to get closer to Baekhyun’s face. “This is happening because of me!”

“Okay!” Jongdae stands suddenly from his bed, striding across to lean over and wrap his arms around Minseok’s waist. He pries him from Baekhyun’s bed and drags him back to his own. “Less smothering our little Baek, and more cuddling me.”

“So needy,” Minseok tries to huff, but his amusement at Jongdae’s attack is quite apparent. He kisses Jongdae’s cheek, and they cuddle back up on his bed again, resuming their movie.

“Thanks, J.D.” Baekhyun says.

Jongdae nods. “Gotcha, brah.”

Minseok spares one last look Baekhyun’s direction to give him a wink.

Chuckling, Baekhyun shakes his head and directs his attention back to the ceiling. He slides his hands under the back of his head, lacing his fingers together. He grins as he thinks about Chanyeol, and his dashingly handsome, big, dumb, dorky face. God, those glasses only did him favors. Not to mention that little dimple on his cheek, so frustratingly cute that it almost makes Baekhyun angry.

Admitting to himself that he had a crush on Chanyeol is still a bumpy territory. It would be one thing if Baekhyun was only admiring him from afar, but… Chanyeol seemed to really like being around Baekhyun too. He thinks. Maybe. He can’t be entirely sure. It’s complicated territory.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone got him all giddy like this. It couldn’t have been since the last time he was in a relationship, which was back when he was a senior in high school, and that feels like ages ago.

However, just as soon as the thought enters his mind, the smile dissolves from his face.

The memories come back to him clearly. He had told himself that relationships and super hero life just don’t mix. Not only did he constantly worry about the potential danger to his then boyfriend if his identity was compromised, but they didn’t work out in the end simply because his time management was way off. He couldn’t give him the attention he deserved.

His heart had been broken, but his responsibility as Spider-Man was something he would not compromise. It’s not now.

Still… Baekhyun thinks, his frown softening a bit. That had been back in high school, when his time management skills, or lack thereof, left quite a bit to be desired, to put it mildly. Not to mention that Chanyeol is a crush, not his boyfriend, and just because he likes hanging out with Baekhyun, it doesn’t mean he returns his feelings.

Baekhyun sighs and closes his eyes, deciding there’s no need to get himself worked up over something hypothetical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [ninibearr](http://ninibearr.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for your patience! These last few weeks have been hectic, complete with a broken laptop scare and the possibility of losing my rough drafts. All is well now though (and I have backups of everything in case of future scares).
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for your kudos and comments! They mean so much to me and help me keep my motivation up! ♥
> 
> And of course, I've gotta give @ByunBae another shoutout! Your enthusiasm and encouragement helps me keep focused! ♥♥♥
> 
> Also, Happy Chanyeol Day! Celebrating his birthday in his Deadpool costume. What a blessed day for us EXO/Marvel lovers!

_When was the last time they cleaned these vents?_

Spider-Man traps his tongue between his teeth, willing himself not to make a sound. It’s a feat in itself, the metal of the vents just thick enough to support his weight but still flimsy enough to dent and announce his exact location if he doesn’t regard it with the care one would moving over thin ice.

On top of that, accumulated dust coats the inner metal in sheets. Spider-Man’s aching not to sneeze, even with his mask covering his nose and mouth.

Maybe it’s psychosomatic.

He peers through the grate. Directly beneath him is one of five suspects in a botched bank robbery, now holding the bank employees and customers hostage while the cops standoff outside.

The last twenty minutes have felt like the longest of his life, and as quickly and easily as he could just bust in there right now to end all this, there’s one thing stopping him: the suspect directly under him has a hostage in his arm and is holding a gun directly against their temple.

Spider-Man is fast, but he’s not about to risk an innocent civilian’s life to test just how fast.

So he waits. And he waits, and he waits, and he waits, ceaselessly hoping that the suspect moves the gun away, even just a few inches. That’s all he would need.

If only something outside would distract them.

He really needs to learn how to be careful what he wishes for.

Glass explodes. The suspect drops the hostage, and gunshots fire. Screams erupt from every direction, emphasized by crashes and panicked scrambling.

Spider-Man has no idea what just happened, but it doesn’t matter. He breaks through the grate, kicking the nearest suspect to the ground, ripping the gun out of his hand with his webbing.

When he looks up, there’s the hooded figure, white eyes contrasting against a black mask peeking from under the hood. Tiny glass shards fall from his clothing to the ground.

Why is he not surprised?

All the suspects’ eyes are on the figure now, the hostages and police outside completely forgotten. They fire off their guns, but it’s a vain effort.

The unnamed vigilante throws out is arms, which twist into the same unnatural, elongated, tentacle-like projections Spider-Man had witnessed before. He grabs the two nearest perpetrators, throwing them across the room. They crash into walls and desks, knocked out for the count.

Spider-Man leaps into action. He weaves through the confusion, shooting strands of webbing as leverage off of the ceiling and walls, parkouring off of every impossible surface to remove guns from the hands of the nearest suspects and bind them together with webbing instead.

The hostages scream, swiftly curling under desks and into corners, too much chaos and uncertainty to recognize that the situation is being handled. Several sets of wide, wary eyes regard the hooded man, and Spider-Man would later suspect they are all wondering the same thing he is: who is this guy, and is he here to help or hurt? His targets do appear to be the bad guys, but he isn’t exactly the most graceful when it comes to throwing them about.

When all the suspects are incapacitated, the police start filing in. They once again draw their guns at the sight of the hooded figure and demand compliance from him. However, he simply leaps back out the giant hole in the glass that he had created with his dramatic entrance.

“Oh, no! Not this time!” Spider-Man shouts, shooting a web to the top of the window and swinging his way out to lift onto the outside wall above it.

He catches the hooded figure leaping up the side of the building, not entirely unlike how he crawls up walls himself, though he has several sticky appendages bursting from his shoulders and thighs to aide him. Spider-Man is determined not to lose him again, casting strand after strand of webbing to yank himself up after him.

“Hey!” he calls after him. “You really shouldn’t just burst in on scenes like that! Hostage situations are very precarious! They need planning! What if one of those men had startled and pulled the trigger and killed a civilian?”

Whether the figure can’t hear him or is choosing to ignore him, Spider-Man can’t say. That doesn’t stop him from trying though. “Why are you running away, anyway? You shouldn’t have to run, if you’re an ally!”

Spider-Man swings sideways to miss colliding with a fire escape now that they’ve reached the higher floors. He releases the web, flipping freely through the air and planting his feet against the building wall. Running upward about ten feet, Spider-Man then springs off, shooting more web up high and tugging on it to launch himself further into the air. “Alright, so are you like the strong and silent type? Sticky and silent type?” He chuckles at his own joke. “Look, I don’t want to tell you how to be, but if we’re gonna be working together, there really needs to be some communication.”

The figure pauses, one extended arm tethering to the wall, feet planted against it, leaving him hanging sideways so that he can look down at Spider-Man with his masked face. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot?” he speaks for the first time.

The sheer surprise of it also has Spider-Man coming to a stop, fingertips and toes latched onto the bricks. “Aye, he speaks!” he declares with a slight tilt back and a palm smacking into his chest for dramatic effect. Then the actual question asked to him belatedly registers, and he clears his throat. “It’s been mentioned.”

The figure turns his head, looking up to the roof only a few yards up, then swings his body to continue his ascent.

“Hey!” Spider-Man calls out, jumping up to continue his pursuit.

Near the very top of the building, the hooded figure extends its arms, which stretch and curl into the air to grab onto something out of sight and pull him onto the building’s roof. Spider-Man gives his web one more good tug and flips into the air, landing on his feet along the top of the parapet wall.

The figure is facing him, arms crossed over his chest. “Listen, Spidey, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ha! As if you could!” Spider-Man immediately snaps back, pointing at the hooded figure as the whites of his lenses narrow. His hands fall to his hips almost lazily, and he lifts his chin. “But, uh, yeah, that kind of talk is giving me the bad guy vibe, but then you did only go after the bad guys back there, so… what’s the deal?”

The hooded figure shakes his head. “I only meant I’m not trying to fight you.”

There’s something about his voice that makes the back of his neck prickle. Almost like he should know it. Yet there’s this deep undertone that sounds almost secondary. It’s slight, but just noticeable enough to sound unnatural.

Spider-Man sighs heavily, arms exaggeratedly flopping at his side as though that emphasizes his point. “Listen, I just want to know your M.O. Are we on the same side? Please give me something to work with. Anything. A name?”

Stitched white eyes stare back at Spider-Man for only a few moments, yet each one takes so long to pass. Finally, he speaks again, and only a single word: “Venom.”

“Venom,” Spider-Man repeats, eye lenses whirring as the white part expands. He runs his fingers over his capped head. “Alright, that’s not sketchy sounding or anything. Listen, if we’re gonna be working together, we need work on our team building skills a bit, and we should probably start with your public image, because you need to come off more hero-y and a little less gray-area-leaning-toward-villainous, you feel me?”

The figure—Venom, he supposes—turns away, leaping forward and making his way to the other side of the roof.

Spider-Man throws a hand forward. “Wait!” He jumps after him. “I mean, if you wanna work independently, I kinda got this side of town covered. There’s plenty of cities that need defending though! I know a guy that can help you with coordinating! Suho Stark! You know, a.k.a. Iron Man. You may have heard of him. Maybe.”

Reaching the parapet wall on the other side of the roof, Venom grips onto it with one sticky arm extension, using the leverage to pull himself over the threshold. His feet plant against the wall on the opposite side, upper body turning enough to look back at Spider-Man. “I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know the next time I save your ass from a jam.” And with that, his grip on the wall releases, and he drops.

Spider-Man smacks into the parapet moments later, palms gripping against the edge as he leans over him. “You did not save my ass from anything!” he shouts down the side of the building, only to be met with the bustling city below, not a single hint of a black outline in sight. He drops his head forward as his shoulders slump. “Aaaaaaand, he’s gone. Of course, he is.”

A small squish interrupts Spider-Man’s exasperated thoughts before he can sink too deep into them, and his attention shoots to the side to see a black sticky splatter clinging to the top of the parapet Venom had been grabbing only moments earlier. Holding out his wrist, the pads of his fingers squeeze into his palm; however, instead of shooting web, a small metal disc with miniature spider legs ejects from his wrist.

The disc expands, wrapping itself around the sticky substance before fully taking shape as a small glass box, lined with metal trim. It lands on the ground with the gentle clink.

Shooting his web, Spider-Man grabs the box and jerks it toward him. The glass container flies through the air and into his grasp. “Gotcha!” 

He holds it up to his eye lenses, and they constrict as he peers at it curiously. The blob of black matter seems to be moving entirely of its own accord, and Spider-Man makes a disgusted noise, only to kiss the box through his mask right after. “Well, mystery Venom dude, if you’re not going to talk to me, maybe this little guy can help me out.”

Back at the campus, Spider-Man swings from his web then releases it so that he’s completely airborne. He does a flip in the air then lands in the dormitory courtyard. Almost all the lights in from the dorm rooms are out, indicating that he got back later than expected. Granted, predicting his return times is always tricky, though there are generally still more lights on than there are tonight.

A silk strand launches for one of the raised garden beds. It disappears into the hedge bush, and when Spider-Man yanks it back, his backpack flies out toward him. Catching one of the straps on his arms, he flips into the air and lands against the dormitory building’s wall.

He crawls around the wall—careful not to make too much noise and also making sure to stay in between windows—before reaching his own dorm room.

Typically, he changes before heading into his room. He can’t just waltz back inside suited up and risk Jongdae seeing him—hence the backpack hidden outside. Tonight, however, if his dormmate is already asleep, sneaking through the window would be easier.

Spider-Man keeps his knees bent with the bottom of his feet and back pressed against the brick. Carefully turning his upper body, he peeks around the edge of the window to try to confirm that Jongdae is already sleeping.

His lenses have switched to night vision, and Jongdae’s blanket seems to shift. Perhaps he’s only turning in his sleep.

Delicately, Spider-Man places his palm against the window, sliding it up an inch. A moan slides out the window, and the voice is unmistakably Minseok’s. A wave of heat blossoms through his face beneath the mask, and he immediately shuts the window, turning around against the wall and scrambling to the roof.

Well, he’s not going back in that way. In fact, he might not be returning to his room for a little while yet. He could always get dressed then go knocking on the door, yes, but still… He doesn’t want to—as Jongdae likes to eloquently put it—“cockblock” them.

Reaching the roof, Spider-Man stretches an arm over the parapet and somersaults into a none-too-graceful landing on the flat concrete roof that has him grunting. He slings his backpack in front of him and opens it to take out his clothes.

Pulling off his mask and gloves, he stuffs them away, along with the box containing the sticky sample. The rest of his clothes, he pulls out over his suit, hopping around to get his last shoe on.

Without warning, the hairs on the back of Baekhyun’s neck rise, and he spins around on the toes of his grounded foot, shoulders tensing as he braces himself for anything. A shadow shifts against the ground from behind the corner of the elevated roof access, and who or what would be here at this hour, Baekhyun could never imagine. However, his defensive posture drops, replaced with confusion as the unknown person reveals themselves.

It’s Chanyeol.

“H-Hey,” Baekhyun stammers, unable to contain his surprise. There’s not really anyone he would’ve expected to see, yet Chanyeol still would’ve been the last on that list.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, regarding Baekhyun with a wary eye, looking just as caught off guard to see Baekhyun as Baekhyun is him. “What are you doing up here?”

“Jongdae and Minseok have the room occupied, if you know what I mean,” Baekhyun says, because, well, it’s technically true.

Chanyeol’s cautious expression remains unchanging. His eyes lower. “And you didn’t put your shoes on until you got up here?”

Baekhyun drops his gaze, realizing he still has his fingers hooked inside the heel of his sneaker. “Yeah,” he says like it’s completely normal and not totally weird at all. He drops said foot to the ground.

His brow creases. Despite the awkwardness of his own situation, it occurs to Baekhyun that his presence up here isn’t the only one that’s peculiar. “What about you, huh?” he says. “What are _you_ doing up here?”

Chanyeol, however, only shrugs. “My dormmate’s smoking up the room. I don’t want to be there when that shit storm goes down.”

Baekhyun nods vaguely. The dorm roof still seems like a strange place to go, even for that, but if it takes the interrogation off of him, he’s not going to push it.

The suspicion fades from Chanyeol’s features, and he smiles that grin that lights up his face, walking over to Baekhyun. “This is a weird place to find you, but I’m not sorry that you’re here.”

Baekhyun’s pulse quickens, and he knows it has nothing to do with the awkwardness of being caught on the roof. In fact, as Chanyeol draws nearer, the further the aforementioned subject disappears in his mind. Baekhyun swallows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, stepping right into Baekhyun’s space.

He’s so close that Baekhyun takes a step back without even consciously realizing it. Chanyeol presses on, and Baekhyun backs up, like an unspoken dance. His eyes are locked on Chanyeol’s. There’s something about them, something different. He can’t quite place it. Chanyeol has always been confident, but this is different. This is more. It tugs at Baekhyun’s chest, making him want to simultaneously shy away and sink his nails into whatever it is and never let go.

“Careful!” Chanyeol says suddenly, reaching around Baekhyun, his palm catching the small of his back.

Baekhyun didn’t realize how far he had stepped back until now as he blinked and glanced back to realize he’s inches from backing into a secondary elevated roof access. Chanyeol had him entranced. Perhaps he should find that alarming, but in the moment, his heightened senses are so locked in on the taller boy that he can barely think.

“I really like you, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, his eyes softening.

Baekhyun’s heart hammers. Chanyeol’s so close, and his hand is on his back. His own lips move, but in a rare moment, he finds himself unable to form words. He can’t even quite form them in his mind. Not when Chanyeol has yet to remove his hand. _Oh god, he still hasn’t moved his hand._

Just when Baekhyun thinks he might implode under that gaze, Chanyeol removes it, looking off to the side and tilting his head thoughtfully. “Did you bring your backpack up here?”

And suddenly the intensity of the moment is doused by more awkwardness. Baekhyun isn’t sure if he should be grateful or annoyed. “I was at the library,” he offers as explanation.

Chanyeol laughs. “Of course, you were, nerd.”

Baekhyun sticks out his tongue, reaching up to lightly shove one of Chanyeol’s shoulders. “You have overused that nickname. You’re going to have to come up with a new one.”

“Hmmm.” Chanyeol hums in consideration. However, when his gaze returns to Baekhyun, that dorky, delighted expression on his face has once again been replaced with that intense lock of eyes. “I guess I could call you something else. Like baby?”

Baekhyun’s lips part, and it’s a wonder that no sound comes out of them because on the inside, he’s screaming. Chanyeol’s close. He’s _so_ close, and Baekhyun’s gaze falls to his full lips without even meaning to right as the tip of Chanyeol’s tongue peeks out just enough to wet them.

He doesn’t have the chance to freak out about that though, because next thing Baekhyun’s knows, Chanyeol’s finger is tucked under his chin, urging it up slightly and then the full, glistening lips he had just been admiring are pressed right against his.

Baekhyun’s breath hitches, and his eyes widen. Chanyeol’s lips tuck against him so perfectly, but just as quickly as they came, they are gone, leaving Baekhyun staring up at him like a deer in headlights. The expression is quite the contrast to the firework show igniting in his mind.

His own tongue sneaks out, faintly tasting the sweetness left by Chanyeol still lingering on his lips. Words, he needs words. Chanyeol has done a wonderful job of taking charge, but if Baekhyun continues on like this, he’s probably going to give him the wrong idea. The problem is, so much is going on in his body and mind that trying to sort out intermingling chaos for some semblance of coherency is proving increasingly challenging.

Then Baekhyun decides… Fuck it. Maybe he doesn’t need words. Why, when he could just act instead, and that’s what he does. He grabs onto Chanyeol’s shoulders, rises onto his tiptoes, meeting Chanyeol’s lips with his own, backed by the intensity of what he’s feeling yet can’t quite articulate.

Chanyeol takes to it with equal enthusiasm, arms encircling Baekhyun and closing their bodies together, lips shifting just enough to take the kiss a little deeper.

Chanyeol towers over Baekhyun, his embrace is so strong. It should probably make him insecure, but in the moment, that would be the furthest from what Baekhyun actually feels, warm and secure, like he might just melt right in his arms at any given moment.

Oh, losing himself to this would only be too easy. It would, except that little voice starts up in the back of his head, nagging at him like an incessant fly as it reminds him why it wouldn’t be a good idea to get into a relationship.

Baekhyun’s hands uncurl against Chanyeol’s shoulders, and when he lowers to his heels, they’re both panting for breath.

His eyes open to be met with Chanyeol’s soft gaze. He looks like an oversized puppy. He’s so dangerous without even trying.

“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asks.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says, trying to force a smile, but it fades as quickly as it appears as that voice keeps nagging. “Chanyeol, I really like you too…”

“You like me, but…” It’s like Chanyeol can read him.

A slight grimace creases on Baekhyun’s features. “It’s just…” he sighs. “I’ve had really bad luck with relationships, and I’m always so busy with school and the internship… And sometimes I just… have problems that I wouldn’t want to drag you into.” To put it mildly.

Chanyeol’s lips curl to one side. “Wow, someone must’ve really broken your heart.”

A humorless laugh breathes from Baekhyun’s lips.

“I get it though,” Chanyeol says. “I’ve been telling myself the same thing since term started. Focus on school. Don’t get distracted by pretty faces.” The wry grin spreads into a full one. “But you’re cute face is way too easy to cave to.”

Baekhyun laughs, pressing a hand lightly to Chanyeol’s face. “You dork.”

“I mean it,” Chanyeol says, rolling his head to avoid Baekhyun’s palm. “And hey, if being dragged into problems means spending more time with you, I don’t think I’d mind.”

“Stop,” Baekhyun laughs, shaking his head. His laughter tapers off into a breath, and he looks up at Chanyeol with a contemplative gaze. “Me though? Really? You had all those pretty girls around you back at the party.”

Chanyeol snorts. “Yeah, you. How is that even a question? Sure, those girls are pretty, but when you came over and sang with me? Oh, man.” Chanyeol shakes his head, letting his gaze wander off wistfully. “I knew I was done for.”

Baekhyun smiles, humbled.

Cupping Baekhyun’s cheek in his hand, Chanyeol brushed the pad of his thumb against the corner of his lips. “I want to kiss you again.”

“What’s stopping you?” Baekhyun breathes.

Slotting their lips together, Chanyeol wraps his arms around Baekhyun’s waist, hoisting him into the air.

Baekhyun squeaks in surprise, throwing his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. He laughs into the kiss, before humming softly and relaxing into it.

And when that voice in the back of his mind started to buzz again, Baekhyun swats it down. He had been doing nothing but working hard since he started college. Maybe he deserves to be a little selfish.

\-----

The campus corridors are bustling, and Baekhyun weaves his way through the bodies, set on his destination.

He almost misses Jongdae’s voice calling, “Hey!” behind him, but a light touch on his elbow has Baekhyun spinning around.

“Oh. Hey, J.D.” Baekhyun says.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Jongdae asks, glancing over his shoulder as though the answer might reveal itself.

“Just the Biology lab,” Baekhyun explains. “I need to use the equipment for what I’m working on.”

“Ah, more nerd business, of course,” Jongdae laughs. “I don’t suppose somewhere in your busy study schedule, you could maybe go over some of my Environmental Science work with me? It’s killing me, and I’ve gotta pass.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Baekhyun shrugs. They share a dorm. Finding time should be easy.

Jongdae reaches out to clap Baekhyun’s shoulder. “You’re a life saver. Thanks, man.”

“Yep,” Baekhyun grins before turning away with a light wave. “See you later.”

Baekhyun is glad to find the lab empty. He expected as much at this time of day, though it’s relieving all the same. Setting his backpack on one of the tables, he takes out his laptop and pulls up one of the lab’s microscopes, which has a USB plug that he connects to his computer.

His hand disappears back into the bag, reemerging with the small glass box clasped in his fingers. He holds it up to his face, black matter swirling around inside right before his eyes.

Setting the box down, he carefully opens the lid. The black splatter immediately jumps out of the box, and Baekhyun swipes it with a swab he grabbed before smacking the box back over it to contain it again.

Dabbing the sample onto a slide, he places it under the microscope and turns his attention to his laptop screen, where the magnified sample of cells is put on digital display.

Baekhyun’s brow creases in concentration. He’s no expert in microbiology, though this still doesn’t look like anything he’s ever seen. It almost looks out of this world. He remembers a time several years ago when such a thought would be preposterous. These days… it’s hard to say.

His fingers brush over the touch mouse on the base of his laptop, and he pulls up an analysis application. It scans over the sample, comparing its components with its own vast database.

Inconclusive.

Baekhyun frowns. He can’t say he’s entirely surprised, but that doesn’t make the results any less unnerving, not to mention frustrating.

However, although the analysis cannot identify what it is exactly, it still can provide insight into how its components compare similarly to known organisms. The results are minimal, but one in particular stands out to Baekhyun: symbiotic properties.

Baekhyun looks down at the mass, crawling its way around its glass confines. If he’s not mistaken, that would mean Venom is not a person with strange abilities but a person hosting a separate organism with strange abilities.

He shivers. Where the hell had this thing come from?

Turning his attention back to his laptop, Baekhyun saves his findings, condensing the information into a zip file. He pulls up an email, made out to Suho Stark, where he attaches the results as well as the raw data from the original analysis. He includes a quick message, explaining the hooded figure as well as the sample he collected before hitting send.

\-----

“Baekhyun!”

Baekhyun’s gaze lifts from the grass, spotting Minseok and Jongdae sitting on a bench across the courtyard. Jongdae lays back with his arms spread along the back, while Minseok smiles and waves.

With a smile, Baekhyun returns the wave and strides across the courtyard to meet them. “Hey,” he says, stopping in front of the two of them.

Minseok lightly kicks at Baekhyun’s toes. “Got plans tonight?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve got a hot date,” Baekhyun says. “With my laptop, I mean. I’ve got an essay to work on.”

Jongdae snorts in an unsurprised way, whereas Minseok rolls his eyes. “You should come with us to Luhan’s tonight.” Luhan is an old friend of Minseok’s, who has an apartment not far off from the campus. “It’s nothing huge, and you should meet Luhan. You’d like him. It’ll be fun.”

“Tempting,” Baekhyun hums, curling his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. “But I gotta pass. I should’ve started on this last week.”

Jongdae scoffs and lifts his hands from the back of the bench. “What’s one more night? Besides, that essay’s not due for a couple of weeks, right?”

“I know, but still,” Baekhyun sighs. “I like to keep ahead on these things so that I don’t have to worry about it when the Stark Internship holds me up for longer hours.”

Minseok sighs, leaning up against Jongdae, but he manages a smile nonetheless. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Hey!” calls a familiar voice from behind Baekhyun, and he turns around to see a smiling Chanyeol approaching them.

Baekhyun immediately perks up. “Hi!” Will there be a day when Chanyeol approaches him that his chest doesn’t immediately start fluttering? He doubts it’ll be anytime soon. He hopes not.

His eyes linger on Baekhyun a moment before turning his attention to Jongdae and Minseok. “My dormmate says you guys are gonna be at Luhan’s tonight.” His attention returns to Baekhyun, and Baekhyun thinks the glint in his eyes might be hopeful. “Does that mean you are too?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun answers without missing a beat. “We’ll be there.”

“Oh, really?” Minseok interjects. “Are you sure you’re not too busy with an important essay and a hot date with your laptop?”

Chanyeol laughs, and Baekhyun looks back at Minseok and Jongdae, eyes wide with warning as he nervously laughs. “What’s one more night, right?”

Jongdae doesn’t even try to hide the exasperation from his face as he lets his head drop all the way back.

“Cool,” Chanyeol grins casually. “See ya there, then!”

“Yeah. We’ll see ya!” Baekhyun says, waving more eagerly than he meant to as Chanyeol heads off. He belatedly registers the franticness of his waving and shoves his arm down, inclining his head as he clears his throat.

“Oh my God.” Minseok stares up at him with his jaw dropped. “You’ve got it so bad.”

Jongdae hunches his shoulders. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

Baekhyun looks back at the pair with his eyes narrowed. “Shut up.”

“Well,” Minseok hums, leaning back against the bench and draping his arms over the back of it like Jongdae. “I guess if we want to hang out, we’ll just have Chanyeol ask you from now on.”

Jongdae shakes his head laughing.

“Very funny,” Baekhyun huffs before turning to head off himself.

The atmosphere at Luhan’s apartment is considerably more relaxed than the party Jongdae and Minseok had taken him too before. There’s people playing video games in the living room and music on the stereo, though it’s kept at a reasonable volume. Luhan himself is very friendly and animated, and Minseok had been right that he would like him.

Despite the pleasant environment, Baekhyun has to admit, Chanyeol is his main motivation for being here. He’s standing next to him in the kitchen, hair meticulously styled (much to Minseok and Jongdae’s amusement earlier), sipping from his beer, where a small group is rounded, just talking and laughing.

Baekhyun laughs along with them and adds his quips now and then, but Chanyeol stands in his peripheral vision, and it feels like he is all he can really see.

They had kissed on the dormitory roof just a few nights ago, but now that they’re together outside of class, Baekhyun suddenly isn’t so sure how to act around him. They see each other in class and text, of course, but their interactions since then have been limited to flirty banter. It is nice but also a little confusing.

He glances down at his hand, wanting to reach out and take it, more than once leaning against the counter as though he might find the confidence to lean against him. He doesn’t. And every time Chanyeol’s arm brushes him, or he looks over with his infectious grin, sparks course through Baekhyun’s veins. It’s wonderful, yet agonizing, but mostly, Baekhyun is just glad to spending time with him.

The balcony door slides open, easily visible over the bar that divides the kitchen from the living room, and someone pops their head inside. “Hey, Luhan!” they call out. “What time does the pool close?”

“Technically ten,” Luhan answers, taking a swig of his own beer. “But no one ever enforces it.”

“What are we doing up here then?” the guys asks, letting himself inside to head to the door.

A few more people murmur agreeably and follow. Minseok tugs Jongdae’s arm, who looks less enthusiastic but lets his boyfriend drag him off anyway—not without bouncing like a toddler having a tantrum along the way, of course.

Before Baekhyun can really consider how he feels about the idea, Chanyeol turns to him, cocking his hip to lean against the counter. “You wanna go?”

“Sure,” Baekhyun says. Well, that settles that.

A small group heads downstairs, while Luhan walks in the middle of them, juggling towels as he urgently whispers. “Try not to be too loud, you guys!”

The pool portion of the evening had not been planned, so no one had brought swimsuits, instead stripping down to their skivvies. Baekhyun does so as quickly as possible, intending to get into the pool quickly after before any lingering eyes could get a good look at him.

It’s not that he’s uncomfortable with his body, per se. It’s more that he’s so aware that his crush, Chanyeol, who he only just kissed a few nights ago, is right there, and the exposure is opening up a different sort of vulnerability.

“Whoa,” Luhan exclaims, smacking Baekhyun on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t have guessed you as the athletic type.”

So much for discreetly slipping into the pool, Baekhyun thinks, as all the eyes turn toward him, complete with suggestive comments and giggles.

“What?” Baekhyun says with as much of a nonplussed tone as he can muster. “I used to take dancing lessons when I was younger.”

Luhan arches a brow. “You danced all that on?”

Baekhyun can only maintain his casual appearance for so long before the fluster begins to show. “Why are you all looking at me? I’m gonna put my shirt back on.”

“Alright, alright,” Chanyeol interjects, stepping in between Baekhyun and Luhan, waving the older boy and curious eyes off. “You’ve had your fun. Move along now.” Pausing, he glances back at Baekhyun, a smirk twitching on his lips. “Can’t say I mind the view though.”

Baekhyun had been so concerned with Chanyeol seeing him, he hadn’t considered this was a two-way street. Not until he has Chanyeol stripped from the waist up right in front of him, clearly no stranger to the gym. He has to peel his eyes away when he starts to wonder how solid one of Chanyeol’s biceps would feel against his palm.

A little smirk plays on his lips in return. “Mine’s not so bad either.”

He’s heading over to the steps that lead into the shallow end of the pool when Jongdae’s voice calls from across the way, “Baek! Back flip into the pool!” He’s already inside, leaning along the far edge with Minseok next to him.

“Come on, you guys,” Baekhyun laughs.

Chanyeol freezes with one foot descended into the pool steps, looking back at Baekhyun over his shoulder. “You can do that?”

“Well, I mean…” Baekhyun grins wryly, scratching the back of his head.

“Back flip! Back flip! Back flip!” everyone starts to chant. “Alright, alright!” Baekhyun waves dismissively, walking along the edge of the pool toward the deep end on the other side. He can’t pretend he doesn’t like the attention, especially when it includes impressing Chanyeol. Still, he knows he really shouldn’t indulge when everyone knows him as nerdy little Baekhyun Byun that studies science and totally does not have a secret life doing acrobatics off of skyscrapers, and he internally berates past drunk Baekhyun for being a showoff.

Reaching the end of the pool, Baekhyun stands along the edge with his back facing toward it. He bends at the knee before launching off, arcing backward so that his body completes a full rotation before he slips beneath the water feet first.

When Baekhyun resurfaces, everyone is whistling and clapping. Luhan hisses for everyone to quiet down, but even he keeps looking over at Baekhyun with a smile and clapping along with them.

“Learn that in dance class?” a low voice asks from Baekhyun’s side.

Baekhyun rubs the water from his eyes. A devious grin draws on his lips as he meets Chanyeol’s gaze. “Maybe,” he says coyly, swiping his hand through the water toward Chanyeol’s head.

Chanyeol yelps, turning in an attempt to dodge the face full of water, but the damage is already done. His wipes the water away, pulling his damp hair away from his forehead in the process—it’s a good look for him, Baekhyun thinks.

“Oh, you wanna play that way, do ya?” Chanyeol laughs before his own expression is alight with mischief. He lunges into the water, splashing a small wave right back at Baekhyun.

Baekhyun’s sharp reflexes pull him out of the line of fire—or water, in this case. “Gonna have to be faster than that!”

“Oh, you!” Chanyeol chuckles darkly, rushing for Baekhyun. Laughter erupts from Baekhyun as he swirls in the water to swim away. The pursuit is short as he feels Chanyeol’s arms wrap around his waist.

“Hold your breath!” Chanyeol warns right before hoisting Baekhyun in the air and yanking back so that they both submerge into the water.

His hold loosens, and Baekhyun swims back up, gasping once he meets the air. He wipes the water from his face, raking his hair away from his eyes, only to look up and see Chanyeol standing right in front of him.

“You had to go under yourself in order to take me down,” Baekhyun says.

Chanyeol slides his arms around Baekhyun’s waist. “Worth it.”

Baekhyun tenses, his heart racing. It had been one thing when Chanyeol grabbed him to pull him in the water. They were just playing around. But now Chanyeol is holding him, and both of them are barely dressed. The night air against his wet skin is cool, but Chanyeol’s body not even an inch from him is so warm.

And he’s nothing short of gorgeous—water dripping from his perfectly sculpted form, damp skin glistening from the distant lighting, that dimple nestled next to his smirk. It registers with Baekhyun that his stunned reaction could be read as the closeness being unwanted, which couldn’t be further from the truth, so he drapes his hands over Chanyeol’s shoulders.

Chanyeol breaks the silence. “You weren’t planning on coming out here tonight, were you?”

“Not at first,” Baekhyun admits. “But I’m glad I did.”

“Me too,” Chanyeol says, and there it is again. That dark glint in his eyes that’s somehow exposing and enticing all at once.

Baekhyun doesn’t get the chance to think about it as Chanyeol pulls their bodies together, ducking to catch Baekhyun’s lips against is. Baekhyun’s eyes flutter shut, and he easily gives in, fingers digging into Chanyeol’s broad shoulders.

“Get a room, you two!” It’s Minseok’s voice.

The kiss breaks, and Baekhyun looks over to see Minseok and Jongdae kicking back in the corner of the pool, one of Minseok’s arms slung around Jongdae’s shoulders.

“Oh, you act like you’re not hanging all over him all the time,” Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun can practically hear the eye roll from his tone.

Minseok makes a petulant face. Uncurling his arm from his boyfriend, he swims over to the two of them, Jongdae following shortly behind.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol let go of each other as they approach, and Minseok slings his arm around the back of Baekhyun’s neck. He rests his temple on Baekhyun’s shoulder as he looks up at Chanyeol. “You know, we’ve grown very fond of our nerdy little third wheel here.”

It’s Baekhyun’s turn to roll his eyes, but Chanyeol only grins. “Yeah,” he says. “I think he has that effect.”

“Mhm,” Minseok hums. “And he’s so smart and so good, so you better be very good to him.”

Baekhyun groans, shifting his shoulders to try and wriggle from Minseok’s grasp, while Jongdae bursts out laughing behind them.

“Is this the obligatory _’hurt my friend, and I’ll hurt you’_ talk?” Chanyeol asks.

“You bet!” Minseok replies cheerfully.

“And he’s got backup!” Jongdae adds, drifting to Minseok’s other side, gently taking his arm.

“Don’t worry,” Chanyeol laughs, seemingly unperturbed by the chipper threat. Maybe that’s because of how far down he’s got to look down to meet Minseok’s eye, though really, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. What Minseok lacked in height, he made up for in iron will when the situation called for it.

“I plan on being very good to him,” Chanyeol continues. “And any punishment that comes my way for treating him as anything less is well deserved.”

“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding,” Minseok coos.

“Alright, Minseokkie, you’ve made your point,” Jongdae says, tugging Minseok away from Baekhyun. “Let’s give them some room.”

“Yeah, _Minseokkie_ ,” Baekhyun teases as they swim away. “By the way, J.D., he’s cut off.”

His attention lifts to Chanyeol, and he tries to smile, but it has to be more of a pained expression. “Yeah, so that was embarrassing.”

Chanyeol just waves a dismissive hand. “Nah. They’re good friends.”

“They really are…” The last word trails into a quiet yawn, and Baekhyun covers his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Tired?” Chanyeol asks.

“A little,” Baekhyun admits. It seems to have hit out of nowhere, but his sleep schedule has been shorter lately.

“Come on,” Chanyeol says, gently taking Baekhyun’s arm and leading him toward the pool stairs. “Let’s get dried off. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

And with that development, Baekhyun can’t find himself too disappointed in his depleting energy levels.

Once they’re dry and dressed and have bid their goodbyes, Chanyeol hoists Baekhyun onto his back and piggybacks him back to the dormitories. Baekhyun slings his arms around his neck and laughs the whole way.

Coming out tonight was worth it. He does feel a little bad for putting off his essay, but he assures himself that he’ll work on it tomorrow.

Chanyeol sets him down outside the dormitory. Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol plans to bid him farewell at the staircase, and he considers slowing down so that he prolong the inevitable, even just a little bit. However, they pass by the staircase, and Chanyeol keeps on walking. Baekhyun’s not going to say anything if he’s not.

They reach Baekhyun’s dormitory, and he takes the doorknob, glancing back at Chanyeol as he nudges it open. “You want to come in?”

“Sure,” Chanyeol says, following him inside.

Baekhyun flips on the light switch then heads over to his bed and flops onto it. Chanyeol’s attention, on the other hand, is focused on the desk next to it.

“This setup yours?” he asks.

“Sure is,” Baekhyun answers, rolling onto his stomach and resting his chin on his hands.

Chanyeol grins and nods with a look that suggests he gives his approval. “Quite the little nerd hideout you’ve got.” He sits down on the computer chair and spins around.

The sight of Chanyeol spinning with his long limbs extended and an expression on his face like a gleeful child brings a smile to Baekhyun’s face. “It gets me by.”

Chanyeol’s feet stomp against the ground to stop his spinning, eyes widening at the Mac in the corner. “Vintage tech! Tell me it works.”

“Oh, it does,” Baekhyun says, perking up. It’s so seldom he’s actually complimented on his retro find rather than regarded like some kind of weirdo.

“And a gamer,” Chanyeol adds, eyes scanning over everything. He picks up the headset and pulls it over his head, pinning his ears against his head. “Why am I not surprised? What have you been playing lately?”

Baekhyun drops his hands, folding his arms against the mattress in front of him. “I jump around between a few things, but Overwatch mostly.”

“Cool.” Chanyeol turns the chair to face him, a smirk curling on his lips. “Then I can totally own your ass.”

Snatching a pillow from next him, Baekhyun smacks Chanyeol’s knees with it. “I’m sure you’ll try your best.”

Chanyeol laughs. Pulling off the headset, he moves from the chair to the edge of Baekhyun’s bed. Baekhyun pushes himself up to sit next to him.

Reaching up, Chanyeol runs his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair, gently breaking apart the locks that are hardened from drying after being wet. His fingers trail down to his cheek, past his jaw line, his hand coming to a rest against the curve of his neck to his shoulder. It’s all Baekhyun can do not to shiver.

“I really should take you on a real date,” Chanyeol says.

Baekhyun grins, and despite his nerves, his hands rest against Chanyeol’s collar. Leaning in, he looks up at him. “You should. Or maybe I could take you on one.” His hands curl into the fabric of Chanyeol’s shirt, and he pulls him down into a kiss.

Chanyeol laughs quietly against the kiss, but the sound is quickly subdued as he easily returns it. The kiss is soft, unhurried. Their fingers shift subtly, lips moving just enough to catch hints of the taste of Chanyeol’s tongue. It’s so sweet it almost hurts. The heat rises in Baekhyun’s veins, a soft hum in the back of his throat as his desires grow. He wants more, hands twisting the fabric of Chanyeol’s shirt.

The sound of the door opening suddenly has the two of them startling away from the kiss, both heads turning to see Jongdae and Minseok in the doorway.

“My bad!” Jongdae chuckles, pausing awkwardly alongside his boyfriend. “I guess we’re gonna have to knock from now on.”

Baekhyun can only laugh, dropping his head to rest against Chanyeol’s chest.

Chanyeol laughs with him, gently patting Baekhyun’s back. “It’s all good. I should probably head back to my dorm.” He gently removes Baekhyun’s hands from his shirt and stands.

Baekhyun admittedly feels a tug of disappointment but nevertheless realizes that it probably is for the best.

“Goodnight, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, leaning over to place one last peck on his lips.

Baekhyun grins. “Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [ninibearr](http://ninibearr.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your patience! I know this one took longer, and I apologize for that! That was in part due to the holidays and also because I was having trouble with the pacing and certain details in this chapter. I ended up redrafting it a couple times until I finally got it here. I'm still not entirely thrilled with the pacing, but it's better than where it was, lol.
> 
> Also, note, the tags of changed a bit, and I took it from an Explicit rating to Mature. I did intend to include smut initially, but when it came to it, it just didn't really make sense overall (which I hope will make sense later). So if anyone was especially looking forward to it, I'm very sorry! I'll see if I can't write a little smutty one-shot later (I actually really feel bad about this, lol;;).
> 
> And once again, shout out to my girl ByunBae, my #1 cheerleader that helps keep me focused when my creative brain tries to be the distracted boyfriend meme, lmao.

Heading further into autumn means more layers of jackets, which Baekhyun likes to zip up high so that he can hide his mouth against the collar. Chanyeol’s hand feels especially warm holding his, and Baekhyun looks up at him with a grin, staring at his profile. It only takes a few moments for Chanyeol to feel the eyes on him and look over, a toothy smile spreading on his face as he releases Baekhyun’s hand, wrapping his arm around the back of his shoulders instead. A laugh breathes from Baekhyun’s lips, and he leans against Chanyeol.

The restaurant they’re headed to is within walking distance of the campus. Baekhyun had found Chanyeol waiting for him in the hall between classes, like he always does now, to ask him if he wanted to go out tonight. Baekhyun agreed, citing that he didn’t have any “Stark Internship” priorities this evening, as he had so many times they had tried to make plans before.

Chanyeol had always been very understanding when the “Stark Internship” did get in the way. It was probably a testament to what a patient and considerate person Chanyeol was, but Baekhyun couldn’t help but feel sometimes like maybe he should be at least a little upset about it. Of course, Baekhyun would end up hastily pushing away the thought, reminding himself it was a good thing. In a way, Chanyeol supported his superhero life without even realizing it.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Baekhyun says, resting his temple against Chanyeol’s shoulder, staring up at the purpling sky. “We could’a just ordered pizza and hung out in one of our dorms.”

“We always do that,” Chanyeol snorts. “Pizza and Netflix is not a real date. Neither is going to the diner with Minseok and Jongdae at two in the morning.”

Twirling out from under his arm, Baekhyun moves in front of Chanyeol, walking backwards as he looks up at him. “What about those late night gaming binges?” Reaching forward, he takes both of Chanyeol’s hands in his, holding them up to his face. “The way you snipe out the people that corner me? How romantic.” He bats his eyelashes in an exaggerated manner, squeezing Chanyeol’s hands before kissing his knuckles.

Chanyeol laughs, lifting Baekhyun’s hands to pull him in and drape his arms up against his shoulders. “That’s because the only one allowed to take you out is me.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “You say that as though I don’t end up completely owning your ass most of the time.”

“Oh, you wish.” Releasing Baekhyun’s hands, Chanyeol reaches for the sides of his torso, digging his fingertips against his ribcage.

Baekhyun squeaks, jerking away from Chanyeol and running up ahead, his laughter echoing down the street. Chanyeol sprints right after him, catching up in a few quick strides, wrapping his large arms around him and curling his head in to nuzzle Baekhyun’s cheek.

It feels like having one of those unnecessarily large novelty teddy bears draped over his back. Baekhyun sighs, leaning back into the warmth, closing his eyes as his hands come up to hold Chanyeol’s arms, and he just enjoys the simplicity of the moment.

Chanyeol is the factor he never anticipated in this double life of his, but he’s not sorry for it. Whenever they’re alone together, everything always seems so much less complicated.

When they reach the restaurant, Baekhyun is a little taken aback. His eyes scan over endless photographs of every pop culture reference from the past few decades. He turns toward Chanyeol with a skeptical gaze. “This is what you call a real date?”

“What?” Chanyeol looks at him with that brow-raised, lips-parted expression that makes him look like an oversized pup. “The burgers here are really good! If you don’t like it though, we can go somewhere else—“

“No!” Baekhyun wraps his arm around one of Chanyeol’s and leans into him. “This place is fine.” An amused grin lingers on his lips. It’s funny; Chanyeol has this cool, hot guy exterior, but underneath it is really a big dork, and Baekhyun adores him for it.

He feels so comfortable around Chanyeol, and he can’t remember laughing as often as he does when he’s with him. So maybe Chanyeol isn’t the cheesy romantic type, but he does try, and he does have his own ways of showing affection, which frankly, Baekhyun enjoys more than the conventional motions anyway.

In the end, the overdone décor turns into a focal point of conversation for their dinner, which goes over decently—save for the dirty looks they receive from older patrons when they start shooting the wrappers of their straws at each other (not that they really noticed amidst their own laughter).

After dinner, they walk back to the dorms, this time heading back to Chanyeol’s room. Baekhyun has been in here plenty of times before. Chanyeol’s computer setup could rival his own, and Baekhyun very enthusiastically had to investigate it the way Chanyeol had with his the first time he saw it.

Chanyeol pounces onto his bed, sitting with his legs crossed, and he reaches over to take his acoustic guitar, drawing it over his lap as he strums a few chords. He watches the neck intently as his fingers splay over the fret board, and his low, melodic voice sings a few lines about how Baekhyun is so adorable and sweet and a light in his life.

“Oh, my God,” Baekhyun chuckles as he rolls his eyes, sitting down along the edge of his bed. He watches Chanyeol play, half embarrassed but also admittedly touched. Maybe Chanyeol is a little cheesy, after all, but he’s just so cute and sweet about it that he can’t hold it against him.

Or so he thinks. Next thing he knows, Chanyeol is looking up at him with a grin that’s far too innocent. He strums his guitar a little and starts singing with a boisterous tone about how Baekhyun is a great big nerd.

Baekhyun crawls onto his hands and knees, reaching over to lightly shove Chanyeol’s shoulder with his palm. “You sure know how to flatter a guy. Is that supposed to woo me?”

“That depends.” Chanyeol smacks a palm over the strings to mute the lingering hum. His grin grows impossibly wide, deepening the dimple on his left cheek. “Is it working?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Baekhyun replies with a teasing pout. He can only maintain it for so long though before he’s smirking, crawling up closer to Chanyeol, his words ghosting over his lips. “And yet…”

Chanyeol closes the breath of space between them, leaning into the kiss as he sets his guitar aside. Baekhyun’s eyes close, arms wrapping around Chanyeol’s shoulders as he presses in, and Baekhyun lets himself be guided to lie down on the bed. In moments, their limbs are tangled together, soft hums accenting the shifts of lips, and Baekhyun’s blood warms when he tastes Chanyeol’s tongue against his own.

Then there’s a knock on the door, and Chanyeol sits up right away. “It’s open!”

Baekhyun blinks up at the ceiling. His body is only in the beginning stages of want, but it’s still enough to leave him uncomfortable when Chanyeol pulled away so abruptly like that.

It feels like every time things start getting heating between them, they’re always interrupted, and the longer this goes on, the more Baekhyun doesn’t understand how they haven’t managed to get around this problem yet. It’s frustrating, to say the least, but Baekhyun just as quickly feels guilty for thinking so.

Shrugging it off, he sits up, greeting Chanyeol’s roommate, who nods and heads over to his desk. The guy always seems pretty quiet and reserved from what Baekhyun has seen, unlike Chanyeol’s description of how loud and intrusive he is. Perhaps he’s different when there aren’t guests in the room.

“We were just about to watch a movie,” Chanyeol explains, pulling his laptop onto the bed and lying back on the mattress. Baekhyun curls up against him, fitting perfectly against his side as Chanyeol’s arm slides around him.

He rests his head against his chest, watching the screen as Chanyeol pulls the title selection up, and he’s just so content and comfortable against him that he’s able to forget about the earlier frustration.

\-----

Spider-Man’s arms burn with the speed and ferocity he uses to shoot web after web, wrenching off of skyscrapers all the way across the city. When he lands, he pants for air, rushing over to the swirls of red and blue lights spinning from the top of police cars.

His white lenses, however, are focused on the fire engulfing the mid-level floors of the building straight ahead. Firefighters stand on ascending ladders and on the ground below with heavy streams erupting from their hoses, trying to combat the raging fires.

“Oh. You finally showed up.”

Spider-Man’s attention drops to one of the officers. “Are there any civilians in there?”

“Not anymore,” the officer replies. “Your little friend got ‘em all out already, brought the suspects in too. I thought it was you, at first.”

Ah, the _other_ factor he never anticipated, always seemingly appearing when needed but still ever elusive. Maybe he should consider that a good thing too, but in the end, he just finds it more frustrating than anything else.

The officer grins. “But looking at you now, you’re too short to be him.”

Spider-Man’s jaw noticeably drops beneath the mask.

“ _You’re too short to be him,_ ” he mockingly repeats to himself over and over again as he swings his way back to the dorms.

\-----

A thin tendril of steam curls from the small opening of Baekhyun’s oversized coffee. He cups it in both hands, sipping from it, basking in the rays of sun that manage to peek through the tree branches, the remaining leaves a deep shade of orange and yellow. A few of them litter the courtyard bench next to him, but Baekhyun doesn’t pay them any mind.

He’s too lost in his own head, a place he seems to find himself often as of late, and this subject seems to be the most common one recently as well. That is the subject of he and Chanyeol’s relationship and its lack of definition. Because for as much time as they spend together, as much affection as they share—and have not bothered to hide from the public—they still never really sat down at any point and put a word to what they were.

It may have not been a big deal at first, but the longer this… whatever it was went on, the more peculiar it seemed that neither of them had brought it up. It seemed almost silly at this point. A part of Baekhyun is bothered by it. They’re too involved to call it a fling, and it’s not like they had sex yet anyway. No, something always seemed to come up before they could quite get clothes off.

On the other hand, although Baekhyun isn’t proud of it, it is easier to justify holding onto this thing of theirs if he doesn’t have a definition for it. He knows what he told himself about relationships, and yes, maybe his homework schedule has become more noticeably condensed, but at the same time, he doesn’t have to face it if he doesn’t have a word for it.

“Jesus, do they fit a whole pot of coffee in that thing?”

Baekhyun blinks, shaking his head, looking over to see Jongdae standing next to him. Jongdae pushes the leaves off the spot on the bench next to him and takes a seat.

“Good morning to you, too,” Baekhyun murmurs, pressing the rim of his cup against his pouting lips. Every drink warms him a little more and nudges his mind that much closer to alertness. Ah, sweet caffeine.

“But seriously, are you okay?” Jongdae asks, and Baekhyun is a little caught off guard by the admittedly endearing concern in his tone. “Those bags under your eyes are intense.”

Baekhyun frowns, fingertips rising to gently brush the slight swell of his lower lids. “They’re not that bad,” he grumbles, pressing a little more firmly as though he can will them away. “It’s not like I’m the first college student to pull an all-nighter. I’m not planning on making it a habit.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jongdae says, though his smile doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Also, hey, if you’re too busy to help me with my science work, then it’s alright.”

“Shit.” Baekhyun perks up, looking a little more alert than he has thus far all morning. “No, no, I said I would, and I will. I forgot. I’m so sorry. But I will do it. I will.”

Jongdae pats Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. Just don’t overdo yourself, okay?” Standing up, he pauses instead of walking away, glancing back at Baekhyun. “I take it you’re foregoing tonight’s festivities to catch up on some z’s, yeah?”

Baekhyun snorts. “I have all weekend to sleep. I’m not missing tonight.”

A sigh slips from Jongdae’s lips. “Ah, we’ve created a monster.” He reaches over to ruffle the top of Baekhyun’s head, which earns him a swat to the wrist. He lightly chuckles before sauntering off.

Baekhyun runs his fingers through his hair to smooth it back into place. He appreciates Jongdae’s concern. Really, he does, but by the time he finishes his coffee, he’s sufficiently awake and the worry seems unnecessary. Granted, it’s an artificial feeling. His muscles feel like he’s completed several triathlons in a row, but he is awake and able to focus, mostly, and that’s what matters.

Chanyeol is waiting for him in the hall before their Biology class. His eyes are closed, arms folded over his chest as he leans against the wall.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says as he approaches him. Chanyeol blinks his eyes open, a smile gracing his lips, but Baekhyun can’t help but notice that he looks pretty tired himself.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, shoulders tilting to push off the wall before reaching for Baekhyun’s hand. He leans down to kiss the corner of his lips.

Baekhyun grins, then his head tilts slightly as he asks, “Feeling okay?” His fingers interlace with Chanyeol’s, and he turns to head the direction of their class.

“Fantastic,” Chanyeol replies, not sarcastically.

Baekhyun simply squeezes his hand, humming and resting his head on his shoulder as they make their way down the hall.

When they reach their Biology class, they find seats next to each other, which has become something of a routine for them. They’re all setup and ready by the time the lecture starts, and like usual, when the professor initiates class participation, Baekhyun’s hand flies in the air first.

Sometimes his and Chanyeol’s hands both shoot up as though they’re racing each other (they kind of are). Today, however, when Baekhyun glances over throughout the class, Chanyeol’s arm doesn’t so much as twitch. His chin is loosely resting on his palm, and his eyes are either on his laptop or on the board.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Baekhyun asks as they are packing up their materials at the end of class.

Chanyeol rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night, and I think I might be coming down with something. Nothing serious though.”

“We don’t have to go to the party tonight,” Baekhyun says as they head out of the classroom. One hand curls around Chanyeol’s elbow, while the other busies itself picking at the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. “It’s okay if you need to rest.” His eyes flit up to the side of his face, and he smiles. “I can even take care of you.”

Chanyeol chuckles. “I can tough it out.” His arm hooks around the back of Baekhyun’s shoulders to pull him in, and he presses a kiss to his forehead. “It’s no big deal, really.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun replies, continuing to smile despite the faint unease in his gut.

His gaze remains on Chanyeol’s as they continue walking, until Baekhyun suddenly feels that telltale prickle of warning rising on the back of his neck. Instinctively, he grabs Chanyeol, swinging them around so that Baekhyun is standing in his spot, and a solid body crashes right into him.

“The hell?” a voice grumbles. Baekhyun looks back to see that it was another student he doesn’t recognize that had run into him. The man scowls then moves to walk around the two of them. “Learn to walk, loser.”

Baekhyun feels his ears burn, but before he has the chance to even mumble an apology, Chanyeol has let go of him and is marching after the guy. Baekhyun’s eyes widen as he watches him grab the disgruntled student by the wrist.

“Apologize,” Chanyeol demands lowly.

The man sneers, yanking his wrist from Chanyeol’s grip and turning away. “Fuck off.”

Chanyeol doesn’t relent, going right after him and grabbing him by the collar. He twists the man around, fisting the shoulders of his shirt and slamming his back into the wall. “I said apologize!”

Shock smacks Baekhyun in the face, his heart racing, and for a few moments, he can’t react, barely processing the sight before him, unbelieving that such a thing could transpire. Chanyeol, the oversized puppy, guitar playing cool guy with a heart of gold. He’d never seen him like this, didn’t think a side like this even existed in him.

Collecting himself, Baekhyun rushes over to Chanyeol’s side, gently placing his hands on the taller man’s arm. “Channie, it’s okay,” he said with a tone as careful as his touch. “I’m not hurt. It’s fine. Let him go.”

Chanyeol glances over at him, and there’s a dark cast in his eyes that makes Baekhyun want to shy away, but he stands his ground.

“I’ll let go of him when he apologizes,” Chanyeol says.

“Shit, man!” the other guy sputters, trying to remove himself from Chanyeol’s hold in a futile effort. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Let me go! Please!”

Chanyeol’s attention returns to the man in his grasp, eyes narrowing a moment, but finally, he releases him. The guy drops, nearly toppling over, but he catches himself then scrambles away.

Baekhyun blinks at the now empty spot on the wall. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” Chanyeol replies stubbornly. “He disrespected you.”

Baekhyun’s shoulders droop as he breathes a sigh. He guides Chanyeol to face him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Thank you for standing up for me. But please, don’t get yourself expelled over me. Do you know how guilty I’d feel?”

Chanyeol manages a grin, features softening into that innocent dork that Baekhyun has come to know, in turn easing some of the tension that had twisted in his chest. “Alright, I get it. Still, that guy was an asshole.”

“Forget him, Channie.” Baekhyun grins, moving to Chanyeol’s side again so that they can continue down the hall, heading down the same direction as before they were interrupted. “We’re gonna have fun tonight, me and you.”

“We sure are,” Chanyeol agrees, slipping his arm around Baekhyun’s waist. “By the way, I should be thanking you for that crazy ninja move you pulled to block me from getting hit. What was that anyway?”

Baekhyun laughs nervously. “Yeah, I don’t know…”

\-----

It would be hard to guess just how tired Baekhyun had been that morning with the amount of energy he puts on display dancing with Minseok. The morning feels like so long ago. In the moment, he and Minseok laugh, hands clasped together, bouncing around like a pair of overgrown bunnies. Every so often, they twirl each other around or break apart so they can put on an impressive solo display, which has the nearby dancers around them cheering.

“Oh, hey, there’s our boys!” Minseok coos, smirking over Baekhyun’s shoulder.

Baekhyun spins them around so that he and Minseok trade places, stepping up on his toes to see over his head. He spots Jongdae and Chanyeol standing in the doorway on the other side of the room, too busy talking with each other to notice their audience.

He frowns. “Doesn’t look like they’re going to join us.”

“No?” Minseok spins them around again so that he can have a look, waving to try to catch their attention. Extending his hand, he beckons them over with a single finger curl and a flirty smirk. After a moment, it turns into a pout, and his hand drops. “They’re being boring.”

“Very boring,” Baekhyun agrees.

“Let’s go tell them how boring they are being,” Minseok chirps, letting go of one of Baekhyun’s hands and tugging the other toward the doorway.

“Yes, let’s,” Baekhyun agrees, closely following after him.

“Why aren’t the two of you dancing with us?” Minseok asks when they reach them, letting go of Baekhyun so that he can wrap his arms around Jongdae instead.

“Yeah, you guys are being very boring!” Baekhyun pouts with his lower lip puffed out. He slinks right up to Chanyeol, draping his arms around his neck.

“Oh?” Chanyeol laughs, the dimple deepening on his cheek. “You’re gonna call the guy who got you a drink boring?”

“You got me a drink?” Baekhyun perks up. He probably really doesn’t need another one, his body, mind, and inhibitions already contently loosened. Then again, the effect has also dampened his better judgment when it comes to consuming more.

“Mhm,” Chanyeol hums, squeezing his arms between their bodies to reveal a shot glass in each hand. “Am I boring now?”

“Hmmm.” Quirking his lips, Baekhyun eyes the glasses in an exaggeratedly considering manner. “I mean, that’s really only going to keep me entertained for about a second.”

Chanyeol’s face brightens into a devious glee as though he was expecting Baekhyun to say that. “Not the way you do these.”

“Oh?” Baekhyun quirks a brow.

“Come on.” Gesturing inside the kitchen with his head, Chanyeol nudges Baekhyun’s arms with his shoulders.

Baekhyun’s arms slide off, and he follows him over to the kitchen counter. Setting down the drinks, Chanyeol turns to Baekhyun and takes him by the waist, hoisting him up and setting him on the edge of the counter, which has him yelping in surprise and clutching Chanyeol’s shoulder to steady himself. The alarmed expression is quickly erased under a burst of laughter from the sheer spontaneity of it, and Baekhyun tosses his head back.

“You ever done body shots?” Chanyeol asks.

The laughter tapers, and Baekhyun lifts his head, regarding Chanyeol curiously before he shakes it in answer.

“That’s alright.” Chanyeol smirks, and that dark glint flashes in his eyes that has Baekhyun’s heart accelerating. “I’ll show you.”

Reaching over where a bunch of lime wedges have been pre-sliced, Chanyeol takes one of them and holds it up to Baekhyun’s lips. “Hold this.”

Baekhyun feels confused, but he’s also feeling buzzed and playful, so he gently takes the wedge between his teeth without biting into it. With the way Chanyeol grins, he can only assume he did the right thing.

One of Chanyeol’s hands runs up his body, reaching the top button of Baekhyun’s shirt. He flicks it open, then the one below it, pressing the lapel aside to expose the curve of Baekhyun’s bare collar bone.

His eyes flit up to meet Baekhyun’s. “Do you trust me?” he asks with that low murmur of his that warms the blood in his veins.

“Mhm,” Baekhyun hums around the wedge, gazing at Chanyeol as though entranced in some sort of spell. He’s deathly curious about what Chanyeol is going to do, but he doesn’t dare ask, no, no. The surprise is going to be so worth it, he can tell.

Chanyeol dips his head down, and Baekhyun immediately tilts his chin up to allow him access. He’s rewarded with a drag of Chanyeol’s tongue over the dip of his collar bone. Baekhyun’s teeth sink ever so slightly into the wedge, and he lets go of Chanyeol to grab the edge of the counter on either side of his thighs, drawing in a slightly shaky breath.

Chanyeol lifts his head, a smirk gracing his lips as his eyes find Baekhyun’s face. He reaches over to grab a pinch of coarse cut salt from a nearby container and sprinkles a concentrated bit on Baekhyun’s expose collar, where the saliva makes it stick to the skin. He then grabs his shot, holding it up to Baekhyun as if toasting him and leans in. His free hand curls around the back of Baekhyun’s neck, and he closes in again, this time dragging his tongue much more slowly, lips sealing against him, savoring every last bit of salt as well as the skin underneath.

Baekhyun’s knuckles whiten as his grip on the counter clenches. His toes curl in his shoes, and the softest of moans slips from his throat before he could stop himself.

Not that he would try to.

It’s the most erotic thing they’ve done. Never mind that they’re at a party surrounded by so many people. Baekhyun doesn’t care. He’s drunk, and there could be ten people in the room or a hundred. The only person he knows about right now is Chanyeol. Besides, everyone else is also drunk and paying them little mind.

Chanyeol rises again, bringing the shot to his lips and throwing it back. He then closes in, lips brushing against Baekhyun’s as he takes the lime wedge from him into his own teeth.

“Fuck, Channie,” Baekhyun whispers breathlessly, lids heavy as he watches the other suck the juice out of the wedge.

Chanyeol grins around it, then takes it out and tosses it aside. “Your turn.”

Baekhyun doesn’t hesitate, reaching over to get a piece lime and holding it to Chanyeol’s mouth, who takes it between his teeth just as he had.

Shifting a little closer to him, Baekhyun reaches one hand to push the neck of Chanyeol’s t-shirt over to get clearance to the curve of his throat. Leaning in, he kisses the exposed spot then laves the flat of his tongue over it. Chanyeol’s hands take hold of his hips.

Baekhyun grins up at him, following the same process that Chanyeol had with him, reaching over to pinch some salt and sprinkle it over the wet spot on his skin. He gets the shot ready is one hand, while the other keeps Chanyeol’s collar exposed, and he closes in to lavish the same spot, collecting the salt onto his tongue, though his mouth lingers there a few moments longer than necessary. He uses those moments to really appreciate the contact, lips pressed against the skin, gently suckling it and scraping his teeth across lightly. He earns a low sound from Chanyeol, the taller man’s fingers digging into his hips.

Baekhyun rises with a light pop as he disconnects from the skin, throwing his head back as he downs his own shot. He then launches forward, wrapping his legs around Chanyeol’s hips and throwing his arms around his neck to pull their bodies together, taking the lime wedge from Chanyeol’s mouth into his own.

Chuckling, Chanyeol curls his hands under Baekhyun’s thighs to keep him supported, finding his balance as he steps back from the table.

The combination of salt and lime juice certainly ease the burn of alcohol, but it’s mostly the taste of Chanyeol’s skin that has Baekhyun intoxicated. All it took was a little taste for him to crave more.

Turning his head aside, he spits out the drained lime wedge to be forgotten, then looks at Chanyeol again and locks their lips together. The kiss is eagerly returned by Chanyeol, whose hands move to grip Baekhyun’s ass.

Breaking the kiss, a breathless laugh escapes Baekhyun. His shoulders relax, and he rests his forehead against Chanyeol’s. “You’re really something else.”

“Nah.” Chanyeol shrugs nonchalantly, then meets Baekhyun’s gaze with a smile. “You’re the amazing one.”

Baekhyun snickers, gingerly placing a kiss on the tip of Chanyeol’s nose. “Can we dance now?”

“Anything you want, baby.”

Chanyeol carefully eases Baekhyun to his feet. Taking one of his hands, Baekhyun leads him into the front room where everyone is dancing. It belatedly registers that he had completely forgotten about Minseok and Jongdae, but in his defense, Chanyeol had been more than a little distracting.

However, as they reach the makeshift dance floor, they run into Minseok and Jongdae, who cheer when they notice them heading their way. Baekhyun takes Minseok’s hand with his free one, and they swirl around until all four of them are dancing together, bouncing around and alive with laughter.

Releasing Minseok so that he can return to Jongdae, Baekhyun spins around to face Chanyeol. He responds by pulling their bodies together, and Baekhyun wraps his arms around his neck. Their hips roll, grinding against each other, and the heat that pulses through Baekhyun’s veins once again has nothing to do with the alcohol.

Chanyeol’s knee nudges between Baekhyun’s, his thigh pressing right up against his crotch. Baekhyun rocks against him, tilting his head back and pressing a kiss to Chanyeol’s lips to stifle the light moan slipping from them.

“Alright, party people!” the DJ’s voice calls over the speakers. “We’re gonna turn this one _way_ up!”

The volume booms, and the subwoofer rumbles the whole room with an intensity that make the windows and pictures on the wall clank and the walls shudder. Baekhyun’s heartbeat suddenly accelerates in an uncomfortable way. The hairs on the back of his neck raise, sending a rush of ice cold shivering down his body.

Tensing, Baekhyun grips hard onto Chanyeol, alert and frantically looking around, expecting danger to erupt in the crowd at any moment.

Except nothing comes. Instead, he’s met with a strangled cry that abruptly cuts out, and Baekhyun returns his attention to Chanyeol to see his eyes rolled up and a pained expression twisted onto his face.

Baekhyun’s hold on him tightens. “Channie?”

Chanyeol cries out, dropping from Baekhyun’s grasp straight to the ground. He slaps his hands over his ears, shrieking a cry so pained that it sends another sudden chill through Baekhyun.

“Channie!” Baekhyun shouts, instantly sobering. He drops to his knees, throwing his arms over Chanyeol’s back, as though trying to protect him from some unknown force. “What is it? Channie, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“Turn it off!” Chanyeol cries. “Turn it off!” His head lifts just enough to reveal his reddened, tear-streaked face before he curls into himself again.

Baekhyun shakes his head in confusion, then his gaze shifts over to the booming speakers. “Turn it off!” he shouts at anyone who will listen, gripping hard onto Chanyeol’s back.

Realizing that something’s wrong, Jongdae and Minseok rush to Baekhyun’s side, the worry written all over their faces.

“The music!” Baekhyun shouts, desperate for them to understand. “They need to turn it off!”

The two nod without question, turning toward the DJ booth. “Turn it off!” they shout. “Cut the music!”

The demands are only met with strange looks and no attempts to help. The DJ carries on as though nothing is amiss.

Baekhyun growls as he stands up and pushes his way through the crowd, marching right over to the booth. He shoves his way behind the table, and the DJ regards him with a bewildered expression. “What the hell, man?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, Baekhyun wraps his hands around the tangle of cords plugged into the wall and yanks them all out. The music immediately cuts out, and the room falls dead silent.

“What the fuck?” the DJ shouts. “The fuck is your problem?”

He marches over to Baekhyun, who turns to face him with his eyes narrowed. Curling his hand into a fist, the DJ throws it toward his face, but Baekhyun effortlessly catches his wrist when the knuckles are a mere inch from his face. He twists the DJ’s arm, which has him squeaking in pain, and pushes it against his chest.

“Don’t,” Baekhyun hisses, then releases him.

All eyes are either on him or Chanyeol, but Baekhyun doesn’t care. He marches back into the crowd.

Jongdae and Minseok are knelt down by Chanyeol, who is still hunched over, panting heavily and shaking. When they see Baekhyun, they immediately shift out of his way.

“Channie,” Baekhyun says quietly, kneeling in front of him. “Channie, come on. Let’s go.”

Chanyeol looks up at him and nods. Taking one of his arms, Baekhyun slings it around the back of his neck, slipping his own arm around his waist. He takes Chanyeol’s weight against him and leads him out.

“Come on, you guys,” Jongdae says to the crowd, attempting to nudge others aside and clear a path for the two of them. “Give them some room. Give him some air. Come on. Don’t be rude.”

Outside, Baekhyun moves to the side of the house, propping Chanyeol’s back against the wall and standing in front of him.

Chanyeol’s shaking persists, his breaths still audible, and Baekhyun’s sure he’s never seen his face so pale. “Stupid,” Chanyeol whispers, almost like Baekhyun’s not there. “So stupid. I shouldn’t be here.” His head lifts, eyes darting about like he’s expecting something to jump out at him. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve known. Stupid. I’m so stupid!”

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says firmly but gently, placing a hand on his chest. “Breathe. Deep breaths. Slow breaths. Like this.” Baekhyun draws a slow, exaggerated breath to demonstrate.

For as well as he keeps his composure outwardly, Baekhyun’s heart aches. He can’t make sense of what happened, and as Chanyeol continues trembling, he feels completely helpless. The city’s great defender, yet he can’t protect this person he’s grown so much affection for from the invisible demon that’s seemingly attacked him.

“Breathe,” Baekhyun repeats, and he takes one of Chanyeol’s hands, placing his palm flat against his chest so that he can feel the next exaggerated breath. “Like this. Just breathe with me, okay? Just like this. Nice and slow. It’s okay.” His other hand comes to a rest on Chanyeol’s cheek, brushing away the moisture from his lower lids with the pad of his thumb. “No one’s out here. Just me and you. You’re okay. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

Chanyeol’s breathing gradually falls into sync with Baekhyun’s, and the shaking finally subsides. His head lifts, and their gazes meet. “Baekhyun…” Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around Baekhyun’s shoulders.

“I’m here.” Baekhyun catches him against his smaller frame, wrapping his arms around Chanyeol’s ribcage and tilting his head back so that he’s not completely smothered against his shoulder. “I’ve got you. You’re panicking is all. It’s a scary feeling, but it can’t really hurt you.”

He had a panic attack, Baekhyun tells himself. It’s the only explanation. Sure, the music got really loud and was obnoxious, but to bring out this sort of reaction… it’s the only thing that makes sense. And if he’s being honest with himself, even that doesn’t quite add up, but it’s all he’s got. Chanyeol chokes out a sob and buries his face against Baekhyun, whose hold around him tightens. “It’s okay,” Baekhyun whispers. “You’re okay.”

Several long, quiet moments pass of them just breathing together, holding each other.

Finally, Chanyeol speaks again, his voice small and slightly raspy. “Wow, I really made an ass out of myself.”

“You had a panic attack,” Baekhyun says. “They happen. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Chanyeol snorts.

“Okay, I know that’s easier said than done, but it’s the truth,” Baekhyun says. “Besides,” he adds, managing a grin. “Remember that time I got too drunk and puked on Minseok’s lap? _That_ was embarrassing. I don’t know why he’s still friends with me sometimes.”

That gets a chuckle out of Chanyeol, a weak one, but Baekhyun will take it. He rises enough to rest his forehead against Baekhyun’s, staying there a moment. “You are… so good, Baekhyun. So good. It amazes me.”

A more genuine smile spreads on Baekhyun’s lips.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Baekhyun frowns. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” Chanyeol sighs.

“You do,” Baekhyun says, tilting his head so that he can kiss Chanyeol. “Because you’re good too, Chanyeol, and you deserve good things.”

Chanyeol grins slightly. “When you sat it, I can believe it.”

“You should,” Baekhyun replies with a more genuine grin, pressing another kiss to Chanyeol’s lips that is easily returned.

“I think I just want to go back to my dorm and lay down,” Chanyeol sighs after a moment.

Baekhyun nods. “That’s a good idea.”

Chanyeol keeps an arm around Baekhyun, who turns to keep him supported and walks him back to the dormitory. Neither of them say anything the whole walk.

When they reach the building, Baekhyun leads Chanyeol back to his room. They stop outside the door, and Chanyeol unwraps himself so that he can turn to face him.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, not quite meeting Baekhyun’s eye. “Sorry this night kind of turned to shit, and also, thank you… for everything.”

Baekhyun smiles up at him. “You don’t have to apologize. And you’re welcome. I’m here for you.” His fingertips rise to touch Chanyeol’s cheek.

The smile is returned. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Baekhyun asks.

Glancing at the door, Chanyeol frowns and returns his gaze to Baekhyun. “As much as I would like that, my dormmate’s probably in bed already, and I don’t want to deal with him potentially freaking out in the morning.”

Baekhyun feels a small pang of disappointment, but he nods in understanding. “Yeah.”

Chanyeol runs his hand through Baekhyun’s hair, fingertips coming to a rest on the nape of his neck. Slipping his arms around Chanyeol’s waist, Baekhyun closes in for a kiss, and a few moments pass of them just holding it silently.

Baekhyun takes a step back and looks up at Chanyeol. For a moment, the thought occurs to him that maybe he should ask about their relationship, make it official. But after the night’s events, he can’t help but think now is not an appropriate time for that. Instead, he simply smiles and says, “Goodnight, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol grins back. “Goodnight, Baekhyun.” He lets go of him, and Baekhyun watches as he turns away and disappears into the dorm room.

\-----

Baekhyun likes to think he’s good at multitasking. With the dorm all to himself for the time being, he has his laptop as well as his PC running. In one window, his homework sits open with a blinking cursor and a lot of white space, though not even that is very visible on the screen currently in favor of the new software Baekhyun found to analyze the specimen’s sample. He has Chanyeol to thank for that—even if the tech geek in question doesn’t realize it.

On his desktop computer, he’s combing for any articles of the mysterious black-suited figure, which as of now have yet to provide any further insight beyond what he already knows. Not that Baekhyun really expected them too, but he hoped he could find some sort of clue or pattern among the articles that might tell him _something_ about him. Thus far, all he has really gathered from these articles is that whoever this person is, they lived—or stationed themselves, perhaps—not far off from the campus.

A small noise pings from Baekhyun’s laptop, and his eyes flit over to it. Most of the freeware and trials he’s come across display the same results for the most part from analyzing the specimen that the very first one had. He sighs, scrolling through this analysis to see most of what he already knew.

He continues scrolling, almost mindlessly, expecting to hit the end of the document at any moment and ultimately disregard this program just as he had with all the others. However, Baekhyun stops, and his eyes widen.

Like the other programs, this one lacks any matching links to known species. What it does analyze though is its molecular structure. The specimen is an organism, yet it contains chemical properties. More specifically, it reads that it contains stimulant like properties. Given its symbiotic nature, Baekhyun theorizes that means it would enhance the host’s strength—which his personal encounters would certainly backup.

Baekhyun taps his pursed lips in consideration. Stimulants have side effects, anxiety, aggression, if the dose is high enough. Would those factors be applicable here as well?

His eyes narrow as he leans closer to the screen. Like every other analysis, this one concludes that the molecular structure is incomplete. Baekhyun had assumed that was because no earth data (strange as it was to think in those terms…) would recognize all of its components given that it couldn’t be identified as a known species. However, what if the incompletion wasn’t a flaw in the analysis but an actual component of its being? That was to say that the specimen didn’t just attach itself to a host but integrated itself into the organism. The more Baekhyun considers the data, the more it seems less like a case of mutual symbiosis and more like outright parasitism.

He shudders.

Whoever the host is, he needs to find them. He needs to show them. The price of their power could very well be their own life.

Saving a copy of the analysis, he pulls open an email to Suho Stark, attaching the files and typing up a quick explanation of his theories. _The host of the specimen needs to be identified,_ Baekhyun emphasizes before sending the email.

He pulls open Mr. Stark’s reply to the first email he sent him regarding the subject.

> _Thank you for the analysis as well as the raw molecular data file. I will have my team look over it and get back to you with any necessary, relevant information. For the time being, heed the subject with caution, even if their intentions appear to be good, until further notice._
> 
> _Regards,  
>  Suho Stark_

Baekhyun frowns. He feels like he’s taken as seriously now as he was in high school. He understands that Mr. Stark does look into this information more than he might show, and also that he’s a very busy man, but that doesn’t make his generic, seemingly auto-generated responses any less frustrating.

After saving a backup of everything, he exits the program. He closes out the articles on his PC as well. Propping his elbow against the desk, he rests his cheek on his curled palm and sighs. His eyes drift over to his backpack on the ground before shifting to the window. The city streets tempt him, and it would be all too easy to slip out with Jongdae gone. However, the brightness of his laptop screen snags his attention, and his eyes fall to the blinking cursor of his all but untouched homework file.

“I really need to work on this,” he muses aloud. “It’s not like any immediate threats have popped up on the radar.”

Reaching for his backpack, he unzips it and shoves his hand past the bundle of his bunched up suit to pull out one of his textbooks. His arm sweeps across the computer accessories on his desk to make room for it, and he flips it open.

For awhile, he simply thumbs through the text and starts making some progress on the open homework document. It looks like tonight is going to be a dull but much needed catch up on schoolwork night.

A buzz against his thigh has Baekhyun looking down at his lap. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to see a text notification with an especially dorky picture of Chanyeol displayed on the screen.

Chanyeol had gotten a hold of Baekhyun’s phone one day and took a bunch of pictures of himself making extraordinarily stupid faces to mess with him. The joke was on him though—Baekhyun adored them.

The text reads: _’hey, nerd’_

A faint grin tugs on Baekhyun’s lips as he types out: _’hey, bully :P’_

_’what r u up to tonight?’_

_‘homework’_

_‘fun. want company?’_

Baekhyun finds his grin widening, but then he sighs. _‘if i wasn’t so sure company would distract me from getting this done, and i really gotta’_

_’i’ll be quiet. i have homework to do too’_

Baekhyun purses his lips as he considers it, when a second text from Chanyeol comes in: _’my dormmate is being a loud asshole. plz, plz? :)’_

Giving in, Baekhyun types out one more reply: _’yeah, ok. but we’re working on HOMEWORK’_

He receives one more in reply as well: _‘thanks, babe’_

Baekhyun smiles at his phone then looks back up at his laptop. Standing, he moves all his materials to his bed, setting them up at the foot so that he can lie on his stomach to work, leaving room for Chanyeol to lie right next to him.

They hadn’t talked about what happened at the party since that night. When Baekhyun saw him the very next day, Chanyeol was back to his normally happy self. Baekhyun wondered if he should bring it up, but he knew how embarrassed Chanyeol had been over it. If all it did was embarrass him more, he wasn’t really accomplishing anything. Chanyeol seemed fine now. It was just a panic attack. They happen.

If it happened again… Baekhyun would be there for him. That’s all he can do.

A short while later, there’s a knock on his door, and Baekhyun looks up from his laptop. “Door’s open!”

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, slipping into the room. He heads over to the bed, sitting down next to Baekhyun and leaning over to press a kiss to his lips, which Baekhyun has to crane his head back to meet.

“No distractions!” Baekhyun insists with a mock warning tone, holding up a single finger.

“I know, I know,” Chanyeol laughs, shouldering off his own backpack and taking out his materials. “I’ll be good.”

Kicking off his shoes, Chanyeol lies down on the bed next to Baekhyun, setting up his laptop and books next to his as well.

Chanyeol keeps to his word. The only sounds in the room are the clinks of keyboard strokes and the turns of pages. Every now and again, he nudges Baekhyun’s foot with one of his, which has Baekhyun grinning and nudging right back.

It’s still going to be a much needed schoolwork night. However, Baekhyun has to admit that Chanyeol’s quiet company really does make it considerably less dull.

The dorm room door bursts open suddenly, and both heads jerk up to see Jongdae strolling in with his arm around Minseok, both of whom are laughing. “Shit,” Jongdae says, coming to a halt before they even have the door fully open as he spots Chanyeol on the bed with Baekhyun. “Forgot to knock again.”

“You know,” Minseok says, looking over at Jongdae. “We can just go back to my dorm instead.”

“Yeah, let’s do that. Sorry, guys,” Jongdae says with a quick wave, backing out of the room. He reaches around the door to flick the lock on the knob. “You two have fun!”

Minseok’s laugh can be heard on the other side before the door clicks back shut, and the two of them are once again alone.

“Jeez, you guys!” Chanyeol calls out. “We’re just doing homework. It’s not like that!”

Baekhyun ducks his head and snickers. When he looks back up, however, instead of turning his attention back to the screen, his eyes drift over to Chanyeol.

Yes, they had only intended on doing homework tonight, and Baekhyun had even been the one to insist in the first place, but now that Jongdae and Minseok had made it known they wouldn’t be returning tonight, meaning they wouldn’t get interrupted like they always seemed to… Well, Baekhyun’s thoughts start to drift.

The hand nearest Chanyeol reaches over, a single finger circling over his wrist, teasing just under the hem of his sleeve. “I mean… it could be like that.”

Chanyeol blinks down at the tracing fingertip, then looks up at Baekhyun. “What?”

Baekhyun doesn’t have the courage of alcohol to back him, and he can feel the heat start to creep up the back of his neck. “I’m just saying… if we have the room to ourselves for the night…”

A brow rises curiously, but then a smirk slinks its way on Chanyeol’s lips, denting the dimple on his left cheek. His hand turns over so that he can gently take hold of Baekhyun’s and interlace their fingers. “Yeah?”

Baekhyun tilts his head back and leans in to brush a soft kiss to Chanyeol’s lips. “Mhm.”

With a squeeze of Baekhyun’s hand, Chanyeol indulges in the kiss, appreciating it a moment before murmuring against it, “What happened to no distractions?”

“I meant once we’re done with our homework,” Baekhyun replies just as softly.

“Oh, okay,” Chanyeol chuckles before closing the sliver of space between them with another kiss. Releasing Baekhyun’s hand, he wraps his arm around the back of his shoulders, shifting so that he can pull their bodies as close as he can in their positions.

The kiss deepens; Baekhyun’s lips part, and Chanyeol’s follows. His tongue teasingly slips in to find Baekhyun’s a moment before he breaks the kiss with a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can wait until after homework.”

“Me neither,” Baekhyun agrees breathlessly, his heart rate already picking up. “Homework can wait.”

“It sure can.”

They sit up, pushing their books and laptops aside with far less care than they should probably be handled. But really, that’s the furthest thing from their minds.

Their lips meet much harder this time, hungry, needing, all the pent up desire for each other building up over the last several weeks finally breaking through. Baekhyun’s hands tangle the hem of Chanyeol’s hoodie into fists, while Chanyeol’s impatient fingers hastily pull open the buttons down Baekhyun’s shirt.

Pulling the shirt open, Chanyeol shoves it past Baekhyun’s shoulders, trapping his arms to his sides as his eager lips descend from Baekhyun’s jaw, and he buries his face into the curve of his throat.

Baekhyun inhales a sharp gasp, shivering under the attention of Chanyeol’s hot mouth, surprising him with a periodic swirl of his tongue or drag of his teeth.

“Channie,” Baekhyun whispers, eyelids fluttering. He presses into him, wanting to melt.

Then Chanyeol’s strong grip takes him by the shoulders, and Baekhyun’s back collides into the mattress with a sudden amount of force. Chanyeol has him pinned, propped directly over him, and Baekhyun’s eyes open, arms still trapped, his mind suddenly spiraling into a mixture of confusion and shock.

The hairs rise on the back of his neck in warning.

It’s not the strength Chanyeol used to pin him. It’s not the hard grip digging into his shoulders. It’s his eyes. It’s that darkness that Baekhyun’s never sure if he’s afraid of or enticed by, never entirely sure if he really actually witnesses or just imagines.

It’s right there, spreading into the whites, plain for him to see, and it burns right into him with a hunger far more sinister than the lust they started with.

“Channie?!”

And then it’s gone, and Chanyeol’s grip eases. His posture slumps, and the expression on his face that could have only been described as predatory just moments ago now looks so much more innocent, so much more frightened.

“Oh, my God,” Chanyeol breathes. “I’m sorry.” Letting go of Baekhyun, he moves to turn his back to him, sitting along the edge of the bed.

Baekhyun sits up, rubbing his shoulders where Chanyeol had gripped him, pulling his shirt back over them. He slowly moves over to him, hesitantly reaching for his back. “Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol has his fists tangled into the hair on either side of his head. When Baekhyun’s fingers brush his back, he jumps, glancing back at him, but then just as quickly looking away. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Chanyeol, what is it?” Baekhyun asks, moving to sit along the edge of the bed next to him, trying to look up at Chanyeol, who is doing his best to look away and keep his face hidden.

“Nothing, I…” Chanyeol shakes his head, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s something.” Looking back on it, Baekhyun feels like perhaps he was denying it to himself, but there’s really no way around it now. Not after everything, not after the way Chanyeol looked at him. He still doesn’t have any idea what, but whatever it is, he wants to help.

“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asks, and he finally makes himself look at Baekhyun, features weighed down with shame. He reaches gently for his shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun assures him. “You, though. You’ve been… a little off lately. I know something’s not right. Please. You can talk to me.”

“I…” Chanyeol shakes his head, staring off at the opposite wall. “I think I just got myself a little in over my head.” His gaze drops to the schoolwork they knocked to the floor. “I should go.” He stands suddenly, scooping his belongings off the floor and into his backpack.

“Wait.” Baekhyun stands after him, touching Chanyeol’s arm. “You don’t have to go. Please. Whatever it is, you can trust me.”

“No, I really shouldn’t have come here,” Chanyeol insists, zipping up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. “I was being selfish.”

“What?” Baekhyun shakes his head, frowning. He cares, and he wants to help, but he doesn’t understand, and Chanyeol’s responses aren’t making it any clearer, and it’s very _frustrating_. “Chanyeol, you’re not making any sense. Please talk to me.”

His pleas fall on deaf ears as Chanyeol marches for the door. Baekhyun chases after him, grabbing Chanyeol’s sleeve. “Chanyeol! Please!”

Chanyeol stops, slowly turning around to face Baekhyun, and Baekhyun feels just so vulnerable, just so childishly desperate in his want for Chanyeol to stay. His want for answers.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says, his face and tone softening. He lifts a hand to Baekhyun’s cheek. “It’s not you.” He ducks his head, brushing the lightest yet oh so sweetest of kisses across Baekhyun’s lips. “But I’ll take care of it. Please, just trust me?”

Baekhyun stares back at him for a moment, every moment of silence passing between them heavy with tension. Finally, he says, “Okay,” not because he wants to but because there’s nothing else he can say.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol says with a small grin, his hand falling to Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Have a good night.”

“Goodnight,” Baekhyun near whispers.

Chanyeol’s hand drops, and he turns away to let himself out. The door shuts behind him, and Baekhyun hand rests flat against it. His head falls forward, and his shoulders heave as he breathes a sigh.

What was happening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, fam.;; 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [yixingscat](https://yixingscat.tumblr.com/) and also, I am on twitter now at [ninissymbiote](https://twitter.com/ninissymbiote) and would love more friends there, too! (I admittedly have no idea what the hell I am doing there though, lol)
> 
> As always, comments are love! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I put canon typical violence as a warning in the tags, but I'd really like to re-emphasize that right now.
> 
> Anyway, all I really have to say is I'm sorry, and I love you. Especially you, ByunBae! <3

When it comes to the immediate pursuit of criminals, the highway is a recipe for disaster. Mr. Stark always urges Spider-Man to avoid it at all costs. Never mind that this particular highway crosses overhead a second elevated viaduct, supported by concrete pillars hundreds of feet high.

It’s also the most challenging terrain for him. The tall buildings scattered about the city are his playground, but out here, the most he’s got to work with are periodic billboards and exit signs.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t Spider-Man that brought the chase here, and the stakes are too high to leave this to the police alone.

Red and blue lights flash from all angles, and police sirens blare in his ear. Sleet rushes by like needles, obscuring Spider-Man’s vision, and although his suit insulates well, he swears he can still feel the bite of cold with how wet everything is. He rides the roof of the police vehicle leading the pursuit, but the cops keep a deliberate distance from the car they’re after because of the precious cargo.

Spider-Man’s lenses narrow, the screen zooming in to the rear window of the vehicle in question, where he can see the crying face of a little boy looking back at him.

The patrol cars weave to race past the other drivers, and Spider-Man’s eyes are locked onto the lone car up ahead, cutting its way through much more recklessly. It pulls up next to a large semi-truck, and finally, Spider-Man sees an opportunity. Catching the top of the truck’s trailer with a line of web, he swings for it, feet landing with a thud against the side. He crawls up onto the trailer’s roof and runs all the way to the front of the truck, leaping from the edge to the car racing ahead.

He lands against one of the back doors, coming face to face with the crying child inside. However, the suspect in the passenger seat has his window down and immediately twists around with a gun aimed right for him. Spider-Man lunges as a shot is fired off, narrowly avoiding it, but the swiftness of the movement and the slickness of the car’s surface have him losing his grip.

His body tumbles against the concrete while cars race past him. Spider-Man’s heart pounds against his ribs, stomach sinking, and for a moment, he thinks he might really be staring death in the face.

Then something grabs him and yanks him off the road. He lands on the roof of another vehicle, and when he looks up, Venom stands before him, eyes stark white against the shadow created by his hood, which flaps wildly against the wind.

“Looks like you could use some help,” he says.

“I was fine!” Spider-Man snarls, pushing himself to his feet, further incensed when he realizes how far he has to tilt his head back to meet Venom’s gaze.

Venom takes his elbow with a surprisingly gently hand, holding his arm up to reveal the bleeding road rash that managed to scrape through the material of his suit. “That doesn’t look fine.”

“Excuse you!” Spider-Man jerks his arm out of his grasp, the sting of the perceived slight more bothersome than the wound itself.

“So what’s the deal with these guys?” Venom asks, nonplussed by Spider-Man’s attitude, though he does have to raise his voice to be heard over the roar of surrounding vehicles and the sharp whistles of wind. “Burglars? Mob guys? The grunts of some super villain?”

“Burglars,” Spider-Man explains, because as much as he wants to be stubborn, the situation is too urgent. “But that’s not the reason for all this. They hijacked that car from a lady to get away, but her son’s still inside!”

Venom’s head turns toward the back of the vehicle, where the outline of the child can be seen through the window, blurred by the sleet coating the glass. “Shit. Well, that explains why the police haven’t laid out the spikes.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man says. “And they have guns.”

Venom turns his masked-face back to him. “I guess the solution is simple then.”

Spider-Man cocks his head slightly. “What’s that?”

Venom turns, knees bending like he’s readying himself to pounce. “I get the guns. You get the kid.”

Spider-Man nods. “Be careful. You don’t want them to crash.”

“You better get that kid out quick,” Venom replies, then he launches off the roof onto the next vehicle.

Spider-Man heaves a breath, crouching down and then jumps over to the next car on the other side. “Sorry!” he shouts, sprinting over the top and leaping for the next. “Not trying to bang up your car, I just need to get over!”

The next roof dents under his feet when he lands. “If it’s any reassurance, I’m sure super hero inflicted damage is a thing insurance covers now!”

He jumps from that car to the next one, and the next one, and the one after that, but he stays a step behind Venom. Venom gets ahead of the car they’re after, landing in the bed of a truck in front of it. He jumps onto the edge of the bed then launches into the air, landing on the roof of the targeted car.

The men inside immediately crane out the window to shoot at him, but thick black, sticky bands shoot from his arms around their wrists.

That’s Spider-Man’s cue.

He hops to the next car then the next, leaping to the trunk of the targeted car. Venom’s projections coil around the men’s arms, but they still clutch their guns, firing into the air. Holding out his palms, Spider-Man shoots a web for both weapons, catching them and yanking them out of their grasp.

Releasing the men, Venom’s tentacle extensions plant against the back of the roof of the car, peeling it away from the top of the rear window with the ease of opening a tabbed can of food.

Spider-Man leaps into the newly created opening in the back seat. Grabbing the child, he jumps back onto the window ledge before the startled men inside have a chance to react. The little boy clings to Spider-Man’s neck, wailing in his ear. Spotting an exit sign, Spider-Man throws a web for the corner of it and swings them over the remaining lanes of traffic.

Pulling them up to the metal frame that holds the sign over traffic, he stands up at the very top, walking across to the thick support beam planted in the emergency pullover lane. His head turns to looks back at the car they had swung here from, Venom still planted on the roof, and he can’t help but feel… something like déjà vu.

That voice. It almost sounded like—

A loud cry in his ear snags Spider-Man’s attention, which he turns to the little boy in his arms. “Hey! Hey, hey, hey,” he says gently, ducking his head in an attempt to meet him at eye level. He uses his free hand to tug the collar of his jacket to make sure it’s snug around him. “You’re okay now! Those men can’t hurt you!”

The child’s bawling persists, face red, steam from the cold clouding from his mouth. His trembling is unrelenting, too shaken by the entire experience.

“The police are coming over,” Spider-Man explains, calm and patient as he rubs the child’s shoulder to both comfort and warm him. “They’re going to take you back to your mom. She’ll be so happy to see you!”

The mention of his mother catches the boy’s attention, and his crying starts to settle.

“Wanna see a trick?” He shifts the child against his forearm in a way that keeps him secure against his body but frees both hands. One wrist bends backwards and releases a small strand of web. With a flick of his hand, he tugs it upward, and it rolls up like a yoyo. He then rolls his fingers through the web to stretch it into a triangle with a ball of web dangling from the top point like a pendulum. The child manages a small giggle.

A siren blares a single note before a police car slows to a stop next to the base of the sign. “Ah, here we are,” Spider-Man says. He anchors a new line of web against the top of the pole, making sure he has a good hold of the child before gently lowering them to the ground.

“See, what’d I tell you?” Spider-Man says to the little boy. “This officer is going to take you to your mother now.”

The child nods.

“Thank you, Spider-Man,” the officer says, carefully taking the child as Spider-Man passes him over.

Cars suddenly screech behind him, and a series of hard crashes follow soon after. Spider-Man spins around. “I better go!”

Running toward traffic, he leaps onto the nearest car, then the next, and the next. The car they were after had to have crashed, he’s sure of it. At least it’s after they had the child out, though Spider-Man still worries for the civilians in any surrounding cars.

Spider-Man comes to an abrupt stop. The car in question did indeed crash, a few more vehicles piled up around it. However, he’s not looking at them. His attention is locked onto Venom standing in the very center of the pile up. His arms are raised up high, except rather than just extending into leathery strips, his entire arms have morphed into something thick and twisted, sticky mass wound tight around the necks of the men they had been pursuing. They spit and sputter, clawing uselessly at the closing coils around their necks, feet frantically kicking.

“Hey!” Spider-Man shouts, leaping over to the scene. “Hey, stop that! You’re going to kill them!”

“And the world will be better for it,” Venom says lowly, his voice sending an icy chill down Spider-Man’s spine that immediately freezes him.

His voice. It’s different. Rather than the hint of something lower underlying the snarky tone he had grown used to, it was as though that darker tone was overpowering the other. This voice was inhumanly low and distinctly cold.

Shaking his head, Spider-Man aims his wrists for Venom’s arms. “That’s not for us to decide!” Two webs launch for them and yank them down.

Venom drops the men, who hit the ground and gasp desperately for air, hands over their freed throats. Spider-Man’s webs are still attached to Venom’s arms, and he jerks them back, yanking Spider-Man to the ground, who hits with a hard thud and a dull grunt.

“You would side with the men that put a child in danger?” Venom growls.

“No!” Spider-Man grunts, pushing himself up to his hands and knees. “I’m just saying that our job is to protect people, not kill anyone.”

“The people will be safer without these men,” Venom says, and even with a less hostile tone, the unnaturally low reverberation of his voice makes Spider-Man’s skin crawl.

“That’s for the police and the law to handle,” Spider-Man says.

“Cut out the middle man.”

“We can’t pass that judgment!” Spider-Man shouts, back on his feet, his arms outstretched. “That’s not justice! That’s murder!”

A sudden scuffle of feet catch both their attentions, and they look over to see the two men using the argument as an opportunity to escape. Venom leaps after them, and Spider-Man jumps right after him. Throwing his arms forward, Venom grabs the men around their middles with his leathery extensions.

“If you want them,” Venom says, hoisting them men overhead. “Go get them!”

Both men scream as Venom whips them into the air, effortlessly launching them across traffic and all the way over the side of the highway.

Spider-Man launches into action, hopping across the roofs and hoods of honking cars. He fires two ropes of web in the air as he races for the concrete barrier running along the edge of the highway. The webs twist around the men’s ankles, and Spider-Man jumps for the concrete barrier, catching the ledge with the balls of his feet. The men swing freely below him, yelling into the open air and flailing their arms around.

“You two just hangout here,” Spider-Man says, connecting the ends of the web ropes to the concrete wall before back flipping off of it.

He spins around to see Venom marching right for him, arms still extended into thick leathery cords, whipping around him. His legs elongate and thicken in a similar fashion, and as he draws nearer, Spider-Man realizes that the mass isn’t just extending from his extremities but trickling up his body. It thickly engulfs his entire form, running its way all the way up to the very top of his head, into a wet, tarry substance, white veins stretching over enormous bulging muscle.

His eyes open, white and twisted up past his temples, like an exaggerated, more distorted version of the white lenses on his initial suit. His mouth opens into a monstrous screech, revealing rows of jagged, razor sharp teeth, and even more alarming, a disproportionately long, whip-like tongue, dripping with saliva.

“What the hell?!” Spider-Man shouts, stumbling back in surprise, grabbing onto the edge of the concrete barrier to catch himself.

Venom leaps for him, and Spider-Man flips to the side, skidding on his feet, one hand touching the ground to balance his landing. He then runs for Venom, jumping for him, throwing a closed fist for his chest.

His punch is easily caught, black mass covering his fist, and Venom throws him to the ground. Grabbing Spider-Man by the neck, he lifts him into the air, the thick extension constricting around his throat.

Spider-Man chokes and coughs in his struggle to draw breath against his closing airways. His gloved fingers dig into the mass around his throat, trying to pry it away.

“You are proving to be quite the pest,” Venom growls, and there’s no trace of the young voice from before, just the dark and unnatural rumble of something out of this world.

“But I am hungry, and you would make quite the little treat.” His oversized tongue slithers out of his mouth, wriggling across Spider-Man’s torso, coating the front of his suit with a thick layer of saliva and leaving him shuddering in disgust from where he’s hanging.

Spider-Man ceases his fight with the appendages around his neck, instead turning his wrists up to shoot two webs around Venom’s tongue. He yanks downward, and the grip on him loosens enough for him to flip backwards, kicking Venom’s head away from him with the motion.

Venom stumbles back as Spider-Man lands. He runs for him, holding his arms straight out to launch another web attack, but Venom grabs him by his wrists, his grip curling once again into thick coils.

Spider-Man’s arms jerk against the hold, fingers pressing repeatedly against the web-shooter triggers, but Venom’s tight grip keeps them blocked. The coiling mass constricts tighter, and Spider-Man’s shoulders tense as a pained cry cracks from his throat.

“I wonder how well a spider can fly without a web to catch them,” Venom says lowly, smiling his nightmarish razor smile.

Spider-Man’s pulse strains against the twisting hold on his wrists, and metal crunches under the increasingly tightening grip, followed by the fizzles of short-circuiting electronics.

“Fly!” Venom shouts, twisting around and launching Spider-Man right over the barrier of the elevated highway.

Spider-Man shouts in surprise, limbs flailing wildly through the air. Wrenching his body around, he looks back up at the barrier of the highway quickly rushing further and further away from him. He holds his wrists toward it, repeatedly hitting the triggers, but only sparks fly from his broken web-shooters.

“Shit!” Twisting back around, Spider-Man faces an intersecting highway running beneath the topmost one rapidly coming for him. In the split second he has to think of some way to ease the fall, he throws his hands out in front of him, hoping to catch himself on the nearest highway sign.

The edge of the sign smacks right into his palms, but the force of the impact is too great, and he slips, tumbling backwards. It happens so fast that he barely registers it, and next thing he knows, a line of pain splits across his back.

His mouth opens wide under the fabric covering his face, but the unseen blow forces all the air out of his lungs.

He barely makes out an upside down rush of cars through the persistent sleet, and then he’s slipping, falling, falling again, only then seeing the edge of the concrete barrier he had hit when he fell from the sign before it too rushes further from his sight.

He crashes through a dense surface until finally his back smacks against solid ground and he’s no longer falling.

Pain. For several solid moments that each take an eternity to pass, all he knows is pain.

Slowly, more starts to come to him. His suit is drenched, ice cold, and he registers a faint, distant fizzle of damaged electronics.

His mouth opens, and he gasps for air, only to find no relief. Stars blink before his eyes, and he determinedly tries again to force his lungs open to no avail. On the third try, cold air finally fills them, and Spider-Man gasps like he’s just broken the surface after an extended stay under water.

The video feed from his lenses crackle before his eyes, distorting his vision worse than the falling sleet. “Turn off the video feed,” he rasps in between heavy pants, and it cuts out. Past the speckle of stars blinking before him, he sees a large hole in a roof overhead that he must have crashed through.

His mind doesn’t quite process where he is or what just happened, but as the sparkle of stars start to fade, the memories of mere moments before start to come back to him as well.

His whole body violently trembles as he pants for air. He tries to lift his arms, but even the smallest of movements sends waves of pain shuddering through his whole body, making him cry out as tears sprout in the corners of his eyes.

If he was a normal person, he would be dead, no doubt. That spider bite enhanced his endurance to inhuman levels, but even they were not infallible.

Spider-Man tries to curl his shoulders forward, but pain once again plants him back to the ground. He chokes on a sob, tears soaking into his mask as he stares through the feedless lenses, eyes darting about to try to find any signs of Venom nearby.

For the first time in a long time, he feels the most unpleasant sensation of all clutching his chest: fear.

Was he going to die like this?

He imagines his aunt breaking down at her doorstep when the police show up with the news. He thinks about Jongdae and Minseok. He thinks about Chanyeol…

Oh, sweet, Chanyeol. All the things he wanted to tell him and never got to.

Tears sting his eyes as he cries out loud, whimpering and panting pathetically.

He swallows hard to halt his crying, eyes closing as he heaves a shaky breath. “No,” he says. “I’m not going to die. Get up,” he commands himself in a harsh whisper. “Get up!”

Without holding back, Spider-Man plunges himself into the pain and forces himself up, the sharpness across his back the most severe. He pushes himself through it anyway. Wincing and hissing, Spider-Man makes it to his feet. Stumbling forward, he catches himself on a wall, the pain dragging a growl from his throat, but he makes himself remain standing anyway. He twists himself around, leaning his back against the wall.

From what he can make out between the darkness and his lens feed turned off, he’s in some sort of warehouse. His eyes lock onto the spot of light on the ground where he had just been lying, the hole in the roof allowing the sleet to soak the rubble-covered floor.

He doesn’t know that he can take on Venom. In this state, he’s not so sure he could hold his own against anybody. Nevertheless, he can’t run away. Venom is too dangerous. He has to stop him.

The spot of light on the ground suddenly darkens from a shadow overhead. Spider-Man pushes himself flat against the wall. Carefully, his palms press against it, sticking to it, and he slowly eased himself up the vertical surface.

He reaches the ceiling when Venom lands in the spot where he had been lying.

“Awww,” Venom coos mockingly. “It turns out spiders can’t fly, after all.” He leans down, slathering his tongue over the now empty spot where Spider-Man had been. “Hmm, but you’re not dead yet, are you, little spider? We’ll fix that.”

Venom steps forward to investigate, and Spider-Man flattens himself against the ceiling, holding his breath, not daring to make a peep.

“Where, oh, where could you be?” Venom continues mocking, grabbing nearby shelving and flipping it over with a loud crash. “You couldn’t have gotten far. Not after that fall.” He laughs lowly. “I’m going to find you, and then I’m going to rip off each of your spider limbs and make you watch while I feast on them.”

Spider-Man tenses against the ceiling and bites his tongue.

“Stop!” Venom shouts suddenly, going still.

Spider-Man’s brow creases under his mask, slightly taken aback.

“Stop!” Venom shouts again, except this time, Spider-Man can hear it: the distinct split of two voices.

The sticky texture of Venom’s face starts to recede away, revealing the fabric mask of the person underneath. “I don’t want this!” he shouts, and it’s the young voice of the host. “I don’t want to kill Spider-Man. I don’t want to kill _anybody_. I don’t want this anymore. Let me go!”

Spider-Man’s eyes widen.

“Fool!” Venom snarls, his face re-manifesting over the host’s. “You’re going to turn your back on me after _everything_ I have given you?”

Very carefully, Spider-Man creeps across the ceiling, making his way over to Venom.

“What would you have without me?” Venom growls. “ _Nothing._ ”

Spider-Man drops from the ceiling and lands on Venom’s back. He reaches around his head to gouge his thumbs into his eyes. Venom cries out, arms stretching back to try to grab him, but Spider-Man digs his thumbs in, curling his fingers deep into the tarry flesh and using what strength he has to try to peel it from the host.

“Tell me your name!” Spider-Man shouts. “Tell me your name, and I can help you! This thing is a parasite!”

Venom manages to get a hold of Spider-Man and rips him off his back, tossing him against the wall.

Spider-Man cries out, slumping to the ground. Lunging for him, Venom grabs him by the shoulders and hoists him into the air. “This ends now!”

His mouth opens wide, and all Spider-Man can see is razor teeth and the whip of pink flesh, but then Venom drops him unexpectedly.

His face withdraws from the host’s mask. “Fire!” the host shouts. “Its weakness is fire!”

Venom grabs his own head and growls. Turning, he jumps for the nearest window and bursts through. Spider-Man forces himself to scramble to his feet with a pained cry, weakly running after him. He grabs onto the edge of the broken window and keels over, panting for breath.

Grunting, he manages to pull himself over the threshold, dropping to the ground outside. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, he looks up, and through the sheets of sleet, he sees Venom scaling a pillar to the lower highway before disappearing over the concrete barrier.

He’s fleeing, Spider-Man realizes. He’s fleeing because the host told him a weakness, and he needed to get away before he shared more.

The host very well may have just saved Spider-Man’s life.

Unsteadily making his way to his feet, he lifts his wrist and presses the trigger only for more sparks to fly from his useless web-shooter. He drops back to his hands and knees, panting heavily. “Fuck.”

Spider-Man shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Suho,” he rasps. “Call Suho.”

He can hear ringing, and a woman’s voice answers. “Stark Industries. How may I direct your call?”

“I need you to put me forward to Mr. Stark now,” Spider-Man rasps with as much command as he can muster.

“I’m sorry,” the woman replies. “But Mr. Stark is currently preoccupied. May I take a message?”

“No!” Spider-Man growls. “Listen, this is _Spider-Man_! People’s lives are at stake! I need you to put me forward to Mr. Stark _now_!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman says. “But I’m afraid I can’t do that. I will leave a message with Mr. Stark to get back to you as soon as he is able.”

“No, dammit!” Spider-Man shouts. “This is an emergency! What don’t you understand about that? Put him through, and if he has a problem with it, he can take it out on me! I don’t care!”

The line clicks.

Spider-Man shouts, slamming the side of one of his fists into the ground.

\-----

When Baekhyun wakes, his first inclination is to go back to sleep, but something tells him he shouldn’t.

He pulls down the blanket, squinting against the brightness streaming through the window.

It’s too bright for morning.

Baekhyun reaches over for his phone, immediately regretting the action as a spike of pain flares across his back. He tenses, and a small cry cracks from his lips.

Memories from the night before flood back to him, and he groans, trying to push that aside for the moment so he can concentrate on the present.

His eyes squint at his phone screen, but it’s completely black, and he realizes he must’ve not plugged it in. What hour he actually got back and what he did is still pretty hazy.

“Shit,” Baekhyun whispers, wincing through the pain as he sits up, reaching around for his phone charger and plugging it in. He forces himself to stand, which is a feat in itself. He feels like he’s been hit by a freight train, worse than the worst hangover, but the sense of urgency created by the awareness of how late it must be carries him on.

He heads over to his dresser to pull out clothes. Showering is going to have to wait.

The dorm room door suddenly bursts open, and Baekhyun looks back to see Jongdae enter. Jongdae blinks, clearly caught off guard by Baekhyun’s presence. “What are you still doing here?”

“Phone died,” Baekhyun explains, pulling on a shirt. “Overslept.”

“Hm,” Jongdae says shortly. “Must’ve been a fun night.”

“Not really,” Baekhyun grumbles.

“Whatever,” Jongdae says, turning to his own dresser, grabbing some clothes to sling over his arm.

There’s something strange about Jongdae’s tone, and Baekhyun turns around, facing his back. “Is… everything okay?”

“Never better,” Jongdae says shortly.

Baekhyun frowns. “What is it?”

“If you don’t know, it’s not worth bothering over,” Jongdae says, grabbing a towel and his shower supplies.

“Jongdae, please,” Baekhyun sighs. He’s never seen him like this, not even when he and Minseok have disagreements. To say it’s unsettling would be an understatement.

Jongdae pauses, looking over at Baekhyun with a creased brow. “I get it, Baekhyun, you’re busy a lot, but if you didn’t have the time to help me out, then you should’ve told me that instead making me think you would.”

Guilt smacks Baekhyun upside the head. Heat rises up the back of his neck, and his shoulders slump. “Shit, Jongdae, I’m sorry…”

“I mean—“ Jongdae shrugs. “You always seem to make plenty of time for Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun frowns, and for a moment, he feels a hot spike of defensiveness, but he pushes that down, because, well, Jongdae has a point. “Tonight,” Baekhyun says. “Listen, tonight, I promise I’ll sit down with you—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Jongdae says with a wave of his hand. “It’s too late for that.” Gathering all his things to his chest, he leaves the room without looking back.

“Dammit,” Baekhyun hisses to himself, rubbing his head. Having Jongdae mad at him was a blow he couldn’t have anticipated, but he had to put that on the back burner for now. There was still the issue of waking up late and getting to class.

Finishing dressing, Baekhyun heads back over to his desk to see if his phone’s charged enough to turn on. It powers up, and when Baekhyun sees the time, a knot twists in his gut.

He missed his first class, and the next one is already half finished. “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” he curses to himself, pulling out his backpack and making sure he had all his materials.

If there was a good day to take a sick day, today would definitely be it, but overachieving Baekhyun isn’t even going to let having his ass handed to him by a steroid-injected parasite keep him from going. Especially not with the end of the quarter so quickly approaching.

Baekhyun winces as he slings his backpack over one shoulder. He probably really should have that looked at, but how would he explain such a thing? This is where Suho Stark’s resources would come in handy, but that thought has Baekhyun rolling his eyes. At this rate, by the time he gets through to him, he’ll be completely recovered already.

Looking at his barely charged phone, Baekhyun frowns as he realizes there’s no messages. Usually, Chanyeol would’ve texted him by now. He thumbs out a text to Chanyeol instead: _‘phone’s almost dead. meet u in the usual spot’_

When he reaches his class, Baekhyun is not entirely surprised to find the door locked, though that doesn’t stop him from groaning, weighed down with worry over how that might affect his overall grade in the class. There’s nothing he can do about it now though, so he decides to go to the spot where he and Chanyeol meet after this class to wait.

It does give Baekhyun an opportunity to plug his phone in again though. He opens his text messages to see the one he sent Chanyeol, who has yet to reply. He feels a pang of disappointment, but then Baekhyun reminds himself that Chanyeol is in class right now and likely has his phone on silent.

What he can’t explain, though, is when after class, Chanyeol never shows up to their meeting spot. Sometimes things come up, and he can’t always make it, but in those cases, he always lets Baekhyun know. Yet as Baekhyun looks at his phone now, there’s still no new messages.

He eventually has to accept that Chanyeol isn’t coming and heads to his next class by himself. As Baekhyun takes a seat and pulls out his class materials, the professor starts talking about the homework they were expected to turn in last night.

Baekhyun’s brow furrows in confusion, and he pulls open his files for the class as well as his planner program. The assignment in question is unfinished on his hard drive, and Baekhyun mentally curses himself.

How could he have overlooked something like this?

He browses through his schedule, so organized and easily accessible, except that… Baekhyun had rearranged it so much lately, that it really wasn’t all that neat or easy to read, and this assignment seemed to have gotten lost somewhere along the way.

He sighs. It’s his own fault.

The end of that class means that Biology is next, meaning he’ll run into Chanyeol for sure. However, as Baekhyun looks at the blank screen of his phone and searches for Chanyeol’s face in the passing-by crowd while he stands alone in their usual meeting place, Baekhyun finds the idea that would normally excite him starting to unnerve him.

Eventually, Baekhyun has to accept that he’s heading to that class alone too. He thumbs out another text to Chanyeol as he does so: _‘hey, u ok? i’m worried’_

Baekhyun finds a spot in his Biology class, taking out his books and laptop. He tries to save the seat next to him for Chanyeol, but as the classroom fills, he eventually can’t.

He frowns, looking at the door, wondering what could be keeping Chanyeol. However, right before the professor starts his lecture, the door suddenly opens, and Chanyeol marches through, looking as run down as Baekhyun feels. He sits down at the nearest empty seat and slings his backpack onto the table but doesn’t bother opening it.

The sight of him should relieve Baekhyun, yet the actuality only furthers his unease.

“Alright, then,” the professor says. “Who can tell me the fundamental difference between bacteria and protists?”

Baekhyun’s hand shoots in the air, and the professor looks up at him with a grin. “Anyone besides Byun? Perhaps you, Park?”

Chanyeol’s head lifts slightly, and he grumbles, “My hand wasn’t raised.”

“I’m aware,” the professor replies, rolling on his feet and gesturing with his hands. “But maybe you can try answering anyway?”

“No,” Chanyeol says firmly.

Baekhyun’s eyes widen, and the professor’s expression looks just as caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“If I wanted to answer, I would’ve raised my hand!” Chanyeol snaps with no pretense of feigning civility.

“That attitude won’t be tolerated in this classroom, Park,” the professor says. “Change it, or I can call security to escort you out.”

“Don’t bother,” Chanyeol says, pushing up from the desk and grabbing his backpack. He heads for the door without looking back.

The whole class murmurs, and Baekhyun’s wide eyes dart from Chanyeol to his class materials and back, torn between what to do. He mentally chastises himself and stands, closing his laptop and scooping his belongings into his backpack. Wincing once again as he slings it over his shoulder, he hastily descends the steps to go after Chanyeol.

“Byun!” the professor calls after him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m sorry, professor,” Baekhyun says, jogging for the door and leaving the classroom behind.

He looks down the hallway both ways then spots Chanyeol. “Channie!” he calls, sprinting after him. Chanyeol continues to marching forward without so much as a glance back. “Chanyeol!” he calls again.

Chanyeol finally looks back over his shoulder. “Don’t follow me,” he says. “Just go back to class.”

Baekhyun frowns, blinking in confusion, but Chanyeol’s words only spur him on to move faster. “Channie!” he repeats, reaching forward to grab his wrist.

Chanyeol finally stops.

“Talk to me,” Baekhyun pleads.

Chanyeol starts to turn. His eyes meet Baekhyun’s for a moment, but then he shakes his head and looks away. “You’ve gotta stay away from me.”

“What?” Baekhyun says, everything going numb, like it can’t even process what was said to him, much less formulate an emotional reaction to it.

Chanyeol looks around, staring off at nothing as he sighs. “I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles. “What am I doing?”

Baekhyun vaguely shakes his head, not understanding. “Channie,” he says softly, and he steps forward so that he’s in front of him. He lightly takes hold of the front of his hoodie, looking up at him. “What’s going on? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here for you. Talk to me. Please.”

Meeting his eyes for a moment, Chanyeol then looks down at Baekhyun’s hand. “There’s no easy way for me to say this,” he says, taking Baekhyun’s wrist and removing his hold from his hoodie. “But I need you to stay away from me. I can’t explain it. You just have to trust me.”

Something feels like it’s caught in Baekhyun’s throat. “You can’t tell me to stay away and not tell me why.”

“I can’t see you anymore, Baekhyun!” Chanyeol spits out suddenly. “I’m sorry.” He walks around Baekhyun and continues marching down the hall.

Baekhyun stares at the spot where Chanyeol had been standing, his hand still raised where he had touched his hoodie. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing as he spins around to look at Chanyeol’s back. “Is it someone else?” The words tumble from his lips before he can even consider them, anger flaring up to shield him from pain. “Is that what it is? Was I just some game to you while you had someone else back home, and now that we’ve gotten close, you’re getting cold feet? What was I to you? Did I even mean anything?”

Chanyeol stops suddenly, turning back around, and Baekhyun braces himself to be met with a defense as fiery as his own. Instead, he’s met with an incredibly fragile gaze from Chanyeol, so heavy yet so soft.

For a moment, Baekhyun thinks that Chanyeol will reassure him that no, no, no, that’s not the case, that never was the case. He was only Baekhyun’s, and Baekhyun meant everything. For a moment, Baekhyun thinks Chanyeol might run over to him and apologize for all of this, and everything will be fine. They will be fine.

The moment passes, and Chanyeol does none of those things.

Instead, his expression hardens. “Think what you want,” he says. “Just stay away from me.”

Cold punches into Baekhyun’s chest that makes the chill of last night pale in comparison, leaving only a heavy sinking void. Unconsciously, his feet move him backwards until the wall catches him.

Each breath takes more effort than it should, and he brings a hand to his mouth like it might contain the emotion bubbling up inside him, threatening to overflow at any moment.

_I can’t see you anymore._

_Just stay away from me._

Beads of tears sting his eyes and obscure his vision, growing until they are heavy enough to spill down his cheeks, and once they start, there’s no stopping them.

It hurts. It hurts so bad that his physical afflictions comparatively seem like nothing.

Pushing off the wall, he runs down the corridor, thankfully encountering little to no one, making his way back to the dormitory.

Once inside, he drops his backpack and stumbles to his bed, throwing himself across it. He only lands on it about halfway, his legs sliding back until his knees hit the ground. Baekhyun remains folded against it, burying his face into the mattress and clutching hard fists into the comforter.

He sobs openly, secure in his solitude that he can allow himself to express the full extent of his hurt. The comforter soaks under his face, and Baekhyun just presses hard into it like he might find a sliver of nonexistent relief.

This bed. He and Chanyeol had created so many memories on this bed. Late nights Baekhyun should’ve been sleeping instead spent exchanging texts, so many laughs while they laid together and watched movies, sweet words whispered to each other and moments that felt intimate emotionally even if they never quite reached physically.

_Think what you want._

Chanyeol’s expression had been so cold.

Baekhyun coughs another wave of cries into the bed, cursing himself.

Idiot. He’s an idiot. He knew he shouldn’t have let himself get so involved, but he had stupidly let his emotions override his logic, and now what did he have? A load of school work that he had put off, a void left in his chest that had once contained everything he felt for Chanyeol, and even Jongdae was mad at him.

Body shaking, Baekhyun’s knuckles go white as he clenches the fabric of his comforter hard into his fists.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Baekhyun instantly reaches for it, a part of him hoping its Chanyeol, pathetic as he may feel wishing for such a thing.

It’s not Chanyeol. Suho Stark’s name displays on the screen, and Baekhyun scowls, silencing the vibration and chucking the phone across the room.

Just last night, he would’ve given anything to see that call, but in the present moment, Mr. Stark’s the last person Baekhyun wants to talk to.

His head drops back to the bed, arms closing around the edges of his face as he cries into the blankets.

“Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun’s head lifts suddenly, surprised eyes searching about until they fall onto his desktop computer screen, which is currently displaying a live feed of Suho Stark’s face.

Suho’s brow rises in concern. “Are you alright?”

Baekhyun looks away, sniffing and wiping his face on his sleeves. “Why are you on my computer screen?”

“You didn’t answer your phone,” Suho says simply.

“For a reason,” Baekhyun replies.

“I understand that you are upset,” Suho says.

“Really, Mr. Stark?” Baekhyun snarls, glaring back at the computer screen. “Do you understand? I really don’t think that you do.”

“Baekhyun, please,” he says patiently.

“Call back later. Now’s not a good time,” Baekhyun says, turning his head away. “And stay out of my computer. That’s invasive, and I do share this dorm, you know.”

“I’m afraid the matter is urgent,” Suho says.

“Oh!” Baekhyun exclaims, anger spiking hot through him. He pushes himself up to his feet. “The matter was pretty urgent last night when I was nearly killed by a giant alien parasite, but I guess you wouldn’t know about that because you were preoccupied!”

“Please don’t shout, Baekhyun,” Suho sighs. “And do know your message was received and looked into.”

“Really? That’s news to me.” Baekhyun moves over to his desk, grabbing the mouse and hitting the keyboard to try to end the call, but whatever program Suho used seems to be inaccessible from Baekhyun’s end. “But I guess an important billionaire philanthropist like yourself can’t be bothered to keep a stupid college kid in the loop, right?”

When he can’t shut down the program, Baekhyun reaches for the computer’s power cord.

“Baekhyun!”

Suho’s commanding tone has Baekhyun falling still, and he sighs, sitting in the computer chair, burying his face into his hands.

He expects Suho to start lecturing him and providing a stream of excuses for his lack of communication, but Suho actually remains quiet a moment. When he does finally speak, he simply says, “You’re right.”

Baekhyun’s head lifts from his hands in surprise.

“Our communications have been distant and lacking lately, yes,” Suho says. “I wanted you to focus on your school work. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out. For that, I apologize.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “It’s fine.” It’s not fine, but Baekhyun doesn’t have the mental energy to get into this right now.

“Are you alright?” Suho asks.

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun insists.

“You don’t seem fine,” Suho says.

“Why does it matter?” Baekhyun asks.

“Because as a member of this team, I’m concerned about your mental being,” Suho explains. “And I do care about you.”

Baekhyun glances up at the screen then looks down at his lap. “It’s not important. Anyway, what was it you were calling me about to begin with?”

Suho pauses a moment like he’s not convinced, but then he ultimately goes along with the change in subject. “It’s about the reports from last night as well as the analyses you’ve emailed to me.”

Baekhyun nods.

“I ran my own analysis on the raw data of the specimen’s sample,” Suho explains. “The specimen is not earth born and is quite dangerous. Make sure you don’t come into contact with the sample directly.”

“Yeah, I figured out that much,” Baekhyun mumbles.

“I see that your web-shooters are disconnected from the server,” Suho continues. “I’ve developed replacements with features that will assist you with defending yourself against the creature in the event you come into contact with it again.”

Baekhyun looks up at the screen in surprise, and then something taps gently against his window.

“That should be them now,” Suho says.

A drone hovers outside the window, and Baekhyun stands up, moving over to it to slide it open. The drone flies inside, dropping a small metal box. It falls open as it hits the ground, and two small metallic contraptions fly from it. They hit Baekhyun’s wrists and circle around them in a mechanical linking sequence. He holds one out in front of him, gently brushing his fingertip over it in awe.

“However, I cannot stress this enough,” Suho continues, and Baekhyun looks over at the screen again. “Do not pursue the creature yourself. Those are for your protection, to defend yourself. If you come across him again, I expect you to contact me right away.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Baekhyun says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The drone flies away, and he closes the window behind it.

“If I learn anything else, I’ll contact you,” Suho says. “Do take care of yourself.”

“Mhm,” Baekhyun hums as he plops down on the edge of his bed right before the screen goes black.

He looks down at his wrist, fingers idly grazing over the shooter’s triggers without pressing them.

“Baekhyun.”

His head lifts to see that Suho has reappeared on the screen.

“I really am concerned about you,” he says. “And I want you to know that I’m someone you can talk to.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Stupid college things. I’m sure you, of all people, have a lot more concerning things to deal with.”

“Your well being isn’t trivial,” Suho says. “And I was once a college student myself. Our experiences might be more similar than you would think.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, I’ve certainly had my heart broken enough times to recognize it when I see it,” Suho says.

That makes Baekhyun go quiet, eyes falling to his lap.

“You’re not stupid,” Suho continues. “Acting on your feelings is not inherently selfish: it’s human. And is it not our humanity, our ability to feel, our compassion that drives us to protect those most precious to us to begin with?”

Baekhyun slowly turns to look back at the screen over his shoulder.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it won’t hurt forever,” Suho adds. “And like all experiences, you can learn from it. What you do with it, however, is up to you. It’s only your choice to make.”

Baekhyun nods, rubbing the spot between his eyes with the corner of his palm. He’s a little hard pressed for words and not particularly motivated to search for them. Although he appreciates Mr. Stark’s consideration, he can’t help but feel awkward about it.

“This might be the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” Suho says softly. “I won’t make you talk about it. Just know that you can contact me, and from now on, you won’t have to deal with third parties. You’ll get through to me directly.”

Surprise flits momentarily across Baekhyun’s face, but then he nods appreciatively. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Suho nods, and the screen goes black again.

Baekhyun sighs, his hands falling back to his lap. He looks at his palms, wrists turning, and he contemplates whether he should go test out these new web-shooters somewhere, but ultimately, he just doesn’t have the will for it.

Without Mr. Stark to distract him, his thoughts drift back to Chanyeol, and trying to stop them would be about as effective as trying to contain a broken floodgate.

He just doesn’t understand what happened. He and Chanyeol had been so happy together, or so he had thought. What changed? What wasn’t Chanyeol telling him? Was there actually someone else? It sounded absurd on the surface, but given the recent events, it… kind of added up.

Maybe he really did have someone back home, and Baekhyun had been entertaining while he was away. But when they got closer and more intimate, Chanyeol couldn’t keep it going.

But that didn’t sound like the sort of person Chanyeol was at all. Then again, Baekhyun hadn’t seen this coming.

He just truly doesn’t know.

Then there’s the part of him that feels as though he has no right to feel this bad about it at all. Given what happened last night, the threat of Venom looming the streets, he feels like he should be more concerned about that, but all he can feel is that hollow in his chest, and no matter how hard he tries to shame himself out of it, the truth is it’s only for Chanyeol.

Tears swell in the corners of his eyes, and he pushes his fingers against his closed lids as though to stop them. They slip past anyway, and he just can’t stop himself from weeping into his hands.

A knock on the door interrupts his crying, and Baekhyun looks back at it. He hastily wipes the tears from his face and turns his back to the door. “It’s unlocked.”

Snatching his backpack off the ground, he pulls it open and removes his web-shooters, stuffing them away. He takes out his laptop, hoping to make it look like he was doing something else besides sitting here crying.

“I don’t know about you guys,” comes Minseok’s voice. “But I could go for a drink right now.”

He walks over to Jongdae’s bed and flops down on it with a relaxed sigh. “What’cha workin’ on over there, Baekhyunnie?”

“Homework,” Baekhyun says flatly, opening an unfinished assignment, despite that being the last place his mind is at the moment.

“Mm,” Minseok hums. “Don’t suppose you could step away from it for a drink or two?”

“No,” Baekhyun says.

From the rustling, Baekhyun can only assume Minseok is sitting up. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Leave him alone, Minseok,” he hears Jongdae say. Minseok scoffs then stands up to head over to Beakhyun’s bed, sitting down next to him.

Baekhyun closes his eyes, palms coming to a rest on the mattress in front of him, knowing his composure is only being held by a thread.

“Hey,” Minseok says. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Baekhyun says quietly, but his lips quiver, and his eyes sting. Clenching his eyes shut, he bites his tongue in an effort to keep his emotions contained. It’s bad enough to feel this without adding the embarrassment of crying in front of his friends, particularly when he knows Jongdae is angry with him.

“Oh, Baekhyun…” Minseok says softly.

Baekhyun shakes his head. The harder he tries to keep a hold of his emotions, the more they slip through his grasp, and he coughs out a sob as the tears start flowing.

“Oh, no!” Minseok sits up alert. “Oh, no, no, no! Baekhyun. No.”

He scoots toward Baekhyun, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Baekhyun buries his face in his hands but doesn’t fight Minseok’s touch.

“What is it? What happened?” Minseok asks. “Is it Chanyeol?”

The resulting louder cry is all the answer Minseok needs.

“Ooh, that boy!” Minseok growls. “Do you want me to kick his ass? I will!”

“He’s a whole head taller than you,” he hears Jongdae say.

“I don’t care. I still will!” Minseok grumbles.

“No, you’re not,” Baekhyun manages against his hands before smashing them against his face again.

“Oh, Baekhyun,” Minseok breathes sadly. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Minseok squeezes him, and Baekhyun winces at the flash of pain across his back, but he contains any sounds of discomfort, not wanting to give him any other reason to worry.

“You’re too sweet to be hurt like this. I hate it,” Minseok says, one hand lifting to pet the back of Baekhyun’s head. “Jongdae,” he adds. “Jongdae, come here.”

Minseok sighs in frustration. “Jongdae, whatever it is, will you get over it? Baekhyun’s our friend, and he needs us!”

“It’s alright, Minseok,” Baekhyun says quietly, sniffing and wiping his face.

“Nah, he’s right,” Jongdae says, and there’s a dip in the bed where Jongdae sits behind him. He places a hand on his shoulder, rubbing lightly. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll pass the class. Your friendship’s more important.”

Another stream of weeps are muffled against Baekhyun’s hands, and in that moment, he’s not sure if it’s because he’s upset or because he’s touched.

“Yeah,” Minseok says. “We’re here for you.”

“Yep,” Jongdae says, scooting closer to wrap his arms around Baekhyun with Minseok. “Get used to us, buddy. You’re stuck with us.”

Baekhyun’s weeps turn into breathless laughs.

Chanyeol was right about them. They are good friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are love! (I hope you don't hate me too much, lol)
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at [yixingscat](https://yixingscat.tumblr.com/)  
> On twitter at [ninissymbiote](https://twitter.com/ninissymbiote)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having mixed feelings right now. On the one hand, I feel a sense of accomplishment. On the other, I'm sad to be finished with this. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the feedback this has received, and I really hope everyone enjoys how this wrapped up as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3
> 
> And, of course, I gotta mention @ByunBae, whose encouragement and enthusiasm really helped keep me going with this!

The days that follow pass slowly, and all Baekhyun can do is take each one at a time. Recovering from the physical injuries is easy. It’s the void in his chest that refuses to get any better.

He just can’t stop himself from reflecting over the last days he and Chanyeol spent together, obsessing over every little detail for any hint that it would’ve went so sour, considering any possibility that maybe he had done something, thinking about that last night Chanyeol had left his room so suddenly.

Perhaps he should’ve seen it coming. The what or why, however, still remains a mystery.

More than once, Baekhyun finds himself pulling out his phone, typing up a message to Chanyeol, asking for answers, asking him to reconsider, but in the end, he always ends up deleting it and sending nothing.

Chanyeol never tries to get a hold of him either. He stops showing up to class entirely, and Baekhyun’s hurt and worried, wanting to know what’s happening yet anxious that trying to find out would come off as clingy and only push him away further.

Forcing himself to catch up on the schoolwork he had been putting off ends up being the best distraction, and when Baekhyun really applies himself, he finds himself able to catch back up more quickly than he would’ve thought.

This night, all caught up with everything, Baekhyun doesn’t have anything to keep his mind occupied. He ends up looking through news reports to see if there are any more Venom appearances since the night of their confrontation, but the parasite seems strangely absent.

He can’t help but worry what that might mean for the host.

“You know, you really should try to go out,” Jongdae suggests from his bed.

Baekhyun glances up from his laptop. “I know,” he sighs. “I just don’t really feel up to it.”

“We’re not saying you have to meet anyone,” Minseok adds. “But it would be good for you to go out and have fun and get your mind off things.”

A small grin appears on Baekhyun’s lips. “I know, and I will. Just not tonight, I’m not ready. Besides, I probably won’t be very fun to be around.”

“That’s okay,” Jongdae says, getting up so that he can flop over on Baekhyun’s bed. “Minseok and I can be plenty fun enough for the three of us.”

Baekhyun chuckles. “You guys.”

“Or…” Minseok adds thoughtfully, sitting down next to Jongdae. “We could have a night in! We can get a bunch of snacks and watch movies. I can even run down to the liquor store really quick.”

A sigh escapes Baekhyun’s lips, but he grins. “Okay, that’s not a terrible idea.”

Minseok bounces victoriously, and Jongdae throws a fist in the air next to him.

Baekhyun laughs, but the momentary bubble of joy soon fades as the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rise. On impulse, Baekhyun slams his laptop shut, lunging forward to grab Minseok and Jongdae, pushing them down to the bed and using his own body to cover them.

A loud burst of glass shatters from somewhere outside, followed by the clinks of falling shards.

“Baekhyun!” Minseok gasps in surprise.

“What the hell was that?” Jongdae grunts, wriggling out from under Baekhyun to sit back up.

“Stay there,” Baekhyun tells them, crawling off the bed and rushing over to the window.

The two don’t listen, scrambling to their feet after him, trying to get a look out the window as well.

“Stay back, you guys!” Baekhyun hisses, pulling the window open and poking his head out into the courtyard to try to find the sound of the source.

“What?” Jongdae says indignantly. “We want to see too! What is it?”

Baekhyun’s head turns either direction until he spots the source. Glass bits fall from the window of one of the higher floors. His eyes widen, dread draining the blood from his face as he sees the familiar stretch of tarry black tentacles whipping from the window before disappearing back inside.

More heads of students pop out the windows, the commotion having piqued their curiosities as well.

Baekhyun whispers a curse, ducking back inside. He slams the window shut and spins around. “You two need to hide,” he tells Jongdae and Minseok.

“What?” Minseok says, shaking his head. “What’s going on?”

“And what are you going to be doing?” Jongdae demands.

Baekhyun eyes his backpack, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He pulls up Suho Stark’s name from his contacts and calls it, holding the phone to his ear.

“Get down!” he hisses.

Minseok and Jongdae look at him then each other, unsure of what to make of Baekhyun giving them orders.

“Baekhyun,” Suho answers.

“It’s here, Mr. Stark,” Baekhyun says, pacing back and forth, pausing to stare out the window. “It’s in the dormitories.”

Minseok glances over at Jongdae with a raised brow. “He’s talking to Suho Stark?”

Jongdae’s eyes are still on Baekhyun. “What is ‘it’?” “I’m sending reinforcements,” Suho says over the phone. “Baekhyun, get yourself and anyone else you can to safety, and _do not_ engage.”

Spinning around, Baekhyun stares at the door. On the other side, he can hear a trample of feet and the screams of his fellow students.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head. “It’s in the dormitories. These are my classmates, these are my friends. I can’t do that.”

“Wait, Baekhyun!” Suho insists on the other line. “Baekhyun! _Baekhyun!_ ”

Baekhyun hangs up, marching over to his backpack to snatch it off the ground. “You two get under the bed. Don’t open the door.” Not that the flimsy dormitory lock would really keep Venom out, but Baekhyun doesn’t have a better plan.

“Dammit, Baekhyun!” Jongdae huffs, marching over to him and taking his arm. “What is going on? What is it you’re not telling us?”

Baekhyun looks down at his backpack then back up at Jongdae and Minseok. He doesn’t have time for this. “Would it be too much to ask for you two to close your eyes and cover your ears real quick?”

“Baekhyun!” Minseok shouts with an impatient stomp. Shaking his head, Baekhyun pulls open his backpack. He grabs the suit, hastily undressing and pulling it on, modesty and witnesses be damned.

“Oh, my God!” Jongdae exclaims, stepping back when he realizes what’s happening.

“You’re—“ Minseok points at him, eyes going wide as his jaw drops.

Suited up, Baekhyun hits the spider emblem on his chest, and the suit vacuum seals to conform to his body.

“No way! Spider-Man? Really?” Minseok laughs, throwing his hands over his mouth, unable to contain his excitement.

“Oh, my God, the Stark Internship!” Jongdae exclaims in awe, hands lifting to his head in realization. “It all makes so much sense!”

“Lock the window behind me,” Spider-Man commands. “Push my bed against the door, and for the love of God, stay hidden! Please!”

He runs over to the window, pulling it open and perching along the sill. Holding his arm out, he shoots his web to a point on the wall well above the shattered window. Jumping from the ledge, he swoops around, aiming himself upward and extending his legs out in front of him to shoot through the broken window.

Behind him, he hears Minseok cheer, “Alright, Spider-Man! Get ‘em!” Jongdae adds a particularly loud whistle.

He was going to have to stress the importance of following directions when he got back.

Spider-Man lands inside the room, looking around, but Venom is long gone.

He pauses, the familiarity of the room’s layout suddenly catching up with him. This is Chanyeol’s bedroom.

Dread seeps into his veins like ice. Had Venom gotten him? What was he doing here? Had he figured out Spider-Man’s identity and Chanyeol’s relationship to him?

Shaking his head, Spider-Man runs into the hall. He doesn’t have time to dwell. He needs to find Venom and make sure Chanyeol is safe.

Venom is nowhere to be seen in the hall either, but the trail of wreckage seems like a good direction to follow. He races for the stairs where it leads him, greeted by the occasional exclamation of, “Spider-Man!” from students poking their heads out.

He shoots his web to the ceiling and swings around the descent of stairs, soaring onto the next lower level.

Students scream, and Venom roars, scratching walls, ripping down lights. He has taken his full monstrous form, the host completely engulfed and seemingly nonexistent.

Spider-Man shoots a web to the ceiling directly above him, using it to launch himself forward, extending his heels. “Hey, asshole!”

Venom spins around just in time for Spider-Man’s boot to collide with his head, knocking him back. Spider-Man skids to a landing on his hands and feet, swirling around.

“Oh, you’ve caught me in a bad mood,” he says lowly. “And I need a punching bag to take it out on.”

Venom laughs darkly. “Do your worst,” he growls, his slithering tongue sliding around his spiny teeth.

“If you insist,” Spider-Man says, holding his wrist forward. “This better be good, Mr. Stark.”

When he hits the trigger, no webs come out. Instead, a blast of noise erupts from his wrist, propelling from in the shooters with waves so loud that even though they are invisible, he can feel the rumble throughout the corridor.

Venom shrieks, throwing his hands to the side of his head, tar swirling around so violently that Spider-Man can almost catch a glimpse of the host underneath.

He releases the trigger. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

Venom takes one look at him then reaches over and rips the nearest door off the hinges, leaping inside the room, the people inside screaming. Chasing after him, Spider-Man skids as he almost slips past the door. Venom jumps through the window, sending out a blast of glass shards. The students inside scream, covering their heads as they huddle against the wall.

“Sorry!” Spider-Man shouts at them before leaping through the window after him.

He hasn’t seen Chanyeol anywhere. All he can do is hope that Chanyeol was somewhere else or has gotten to safety. As long as he has Venom away from the dormitories, he can assure himself that his classmates will be safe.

Spider-Man lands in the courtyard. Ahead of him, Venom launches himself forward on all fours. He runs after him, but the courtyard is just too open. There’s nothing he can latch his web onto to swing from, and his legs just don’t carry him as fast as Venom.

He growls, forcing his legs to move as fast as they can take him. He can’t lose him. Not this time.

Running toward traffic, Venom grabs the nearest parked car along the side, lifting it over his head like its nothing. He spins around and thrusts it right for Spider-Man.

Spider-Man yelps, flipping sideways through the air as the car rolls overhead and crashes into the ground behind him.

Cars skid and crash into each other as Venom runs into the streets then leaps onto the wall of the parking garage on the other side.

Back on his feet, Spider-Man runs after him, watching as Venom disappears over the concrete wall a few stories up.

“No, no, no, no!” Spider-Man shouts. He leaps toward the street, jumping off the roofs of cars that have come to a stop. Shooting his web up high on the parking garage, he swings up to the level Venom had slipped into, clearing over the wall.

Spider-Man touches down gracefully inside the garage. It’s eerily silent, Venom nowhere to be seen.

He curses under his breath. He can’t lose him. He just can’t.

Choked sobs echo from not too far off. The voice is too soft to be Venom’s.

Zipping a web to the ceiling, Spider-Man pulls himself up, hands and feet sticking against the horizontal surface. He crawls across it upside down toward the sound of the voice.

“Get out of me!” the voice shouts. “I don’t want this!”

A lump catches in Spider-Man’s throat as the familiarity of the voice sinks in.

“Is this how you show gratitude after everything I have given you?” It’s Venom.

“You’ve taken everything from me!”

“Aww, is this about your little boyfriend?” Venom asks mockingly. “You never would’ve had him, if I didn’t give you the courage. I bet he would make a delicious little snack though. I may just go find out, if you don’t start cooperating.”

“No!”

Spider-Man carefully crawls over the support beam into the row of cars on the next side. The host is knelt in the empty space between them, black streams swirling around him but not fully materializing.

His eye lenses widen. He could’ve chalked the voice to his imagination, but here, now the truth sits right in front of him in plain sight. Dropping from the ceiling, Spider-Man lands in front of him.

“Channie…” he whispers.

Chanyeol looks up at him with wide eyes, but they only lock a moment before Venom completely engulfs him.

Rising up, Venom’s limbs burst into leathery extensions, wrapping around Spider-Man’s wrists, neck, and ankles before he has the chance to get away. Not that he really tried, the shock of seeing Chanyeol stunning his quicker senses.

He chokes and sputters as he’s hoisted into the air.

“Mmm,” Venom growls, licking his teeth as he pulls Spider-Man close to him, twisted white eyes not even an inch from his mechanical lenses. “A sweet little spider snack handed to me on a silver platter. How nice.”

“C-Chanyeol!” Spider-Man shouts, voice cracking against the hold on his throat. “Chanyeol, I know you’re in there! You’ve gotta fight it off! You can do it! I know you can!”

Venom laughs, opening his mouth wide, displaying rows and rows of razor teeth, a breath away from touching his mask.

“It’s me, Channie!” Spider-Man shouts. “It’s me! It’s Baekhyun!”

The shift in Venom’s grip is so subtle it’s almost unnoticeable, but it’s enough. Spider-Man jerks his arm into a circle, breaking free from the hold on his wrist. Grabbing the mask on his face, he yanks it off. “It’s me!”

Venom shrinks, black matter dissolving away as Baekhyun’s dropped to the ground.

His head lifts to see Chanyeol dropping to his knees before him, Venom rushing around his body, struggling to regain control.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, and it’s so simple, only his name, spoken so softly, but the weight behind speaks so much more.

“Channie,” Baekhyun rasps, pushing up to his hands and knees. “You’ve gotta fight him off!”

“I can’t!” Chanyeol’s voice cracks into a sob. “He’s too strong!”

The rush of Venom’s form suddenly trickles down Chanyeol’s body into a puddle on the ground. Chanyeol falls forward, palms catching him against the concrete as he gasps and sputters.

The swirl of black mass rushes across the ground right for Baekhyun. He scrambles back in an attempt to keep away from it, unsteadily pushing himself to his feet, but the mass slides over them and completely overtakes his body.

Venom laughs. “Oh, yes,” he says, using Baekhyun’s lips and vocal chords against his own volition, a sinister voice that doesn’t belong to him coming from his throat. “I was overdue for a new host. A stronger host. A superior host. This one will do nicely.”

Power courses through Baekhyun’s veins in a way he’s never felt, even stronger than when he first discovered his enhanced abilities. Despite knowing better, it’s so invigorating. He feels unstoppable.

Chanyeol looks up at him, eyes wide with terror. He scrambles backward.

Venom walks after him, Baekhyun’s legs moving beyond his control. He reaches forward, extending his arm into the tentacle-like projection to wrap around Chanyeol’s waist and lift him into the air.

A razor-sharp grin spreads across his face. “It’s been fun, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol shouts, kicking and grabbing the hold around him to try to free himself. The effort is in vain.

Baekhyun struggles to regain control of his body. It’s like a nightmare, using all his energy to move only to be met by a greater resistance. He focuses all of his effort into his two fingers, willing them to curl against his palm.

Chanyeol screams as Venom’s mouth opens over his head.

Baekhyun hits the trigger. Sonic waves flood the garage, shattering the windows of the nearest vehicles and subsequently setting off all the car alarms in a ripple.

Venom roars, dropping Chanyeol and launching off of Baekhyun, the force of which knocks him back.

Baekhyun skids across the ground, rolling his body over to catch the surface against his hands into a stop. He lifts his head to see Chanyeol pushing himself to his feet ahead of him.

“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun shouts, scrambling to his feet and running toward him with his arm outstretched, fingers splayed.

Chanyeol extends a hand in return, and they race for each other. Shooting a line of web, Baekhyun catches his wrist and tugs him toward him.

The flurry of black mass drops from the ceiling, splashing over Chanyeol, and Venom takes over. He yanks his arm down, snapping the web and knocking Baekhyun off balance. His other hand curls into a fist and slams into Baekhyun’s chest, sending him flying back.

Baekhyun cries out as his back slams into one of the parked cars. Groaning, he shakes his head as his vision swims, narrowing his eyes to see Venom running the opposite way.

Venom’s form is unstable, swirling around with noticeable holes as Chanyeol struggles to regain control.

“Stay away from me, Baekhyun!” Chanyeol shouts. “You have to stay away!”

Baekhyun pushes off of the car, chasing after Venom.

_There’s no easy way for me to say this, I need you to stay away from me._

_Think what you want. Just stay away._

Oh, Channie…

There’s no way he’s going to abandon him.

Fingertips squeezing against the trigger, Baekhyun sends off another sonic blast. Venom bellows, launching forward and barreling through the nearest concrete wall.

Baekhyun shoots a web out the hole, attaching to the next building outside across the way, swinging out of the garage.

Looking down, he spots Venom on the street, Chanyeol still fighting to regain control of himself. He sees him ripping off the door of a taxi, pulling out the driver and jumping inside.

Baekhyun swings after him, but a chunk of concrete falls from the broken garage wall, smacking into his back. He grunts, and the web snaps, sending him spiraling toward the ground.

Holding out his wrist, he hits the trigger, but instead of a web strand, more sonic waves erupt from it. Realizing his mistake, Baekhyun impulsively throws his arms over his head.

Just when Baekhyun thinks he’s going to crash into the ground, something hard collides with him midair… yet does so with a surprising amount of grace and care.

Baekhyun unfolds his arms.

“Mr. Stark!” He scrambles to get a hold of his armored shoulders while Iron Man’s metal-clad arms curl around him.

Iron Man’s eyes glow on his mask. “Where’s Venom?” he asks, a slight robotic tone underlying the projection of his voice.

Baekhyun twists in his embrace to look down at the street, spotting the taxi up ahead. It weaves around the other cars, speeding up past them, up ahead where traffic starts to cease. Baekhyun extends a finger. “There! In that taxi!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Iron Man says. “Get away from traffic.”

He extends his free arm forward, and his bracer opens to ready one of his missiles.

“No!” Baekhyun shouts, reaching over as though to shove the missile back in. “He’s still attached to Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s innocent. You can’t!”

The missile recedes back into its compartment. “We have to separate them. We can’t let Venom get away.”

“I know,” Baekhyun replies, looking up ahead at the speeding taxi.

His eyes narrow. What is Chanyeol doing? He has to have some semblance of control to continue speeding off away from civilians like that, but what exactly is his plan?

Lifting his gaze, Baekhyun’s eyes widen. Straight ahead are rows of concrete pillars supporting an overhead bridge. At the rate the car is moving, it wouldn’t possibly make it out of the collision.

Neither would Venom.

Neither would Chanyeol.

“No,” Baekhyun whispers. “No, no, no, Channie, you can’t.”

“We need a plan quick,” Iron Man says impatiently.

“Mr. Stark,” Baekhyun says. “Get me close to the car. I can get Chanyeol out.”

“It’s too risky.”

“I can do it!” Baekhyun shouts. “Please, Mr. Stark, for once, trust me!”

“You’ve got one shot.” Iron Man’s repulsors flair, launching him forward and catching up to the taxi in seconds.

Iron Man descends closer, and Baekhyun lets go of him, hopping down to the taxi and landing on the trunk. He holds his upturned wrist right against the back windshield, and the point blank proximity of the sonic waves immediately shatter the glass into thousands of tiny pieces.

Venom screeches, flesh twisting from solid to liquid, rushing around Chanyeol like a whirlwind. Baekhyun holds out his other arm, shooting a web to grab Chanyeol by the shoulder. He yanks back hard, pulling Chanyeol over the seat and through the open window into the air, while Venom continues to flail around inside the vehicle.

Twisting around and jumping off the car after him, Baekhyun reaches for Chanyeol. Iron Man whooshes overhead past them, firing his missile, and the taxi explodes into a fiery heap.

The aftershocks of the blast knock Baekhyun and Chanyeol off their course, propelling them higher into the air. Baekhyun’s arms flail around in a desperate attempt to regain his balance, and he fires off a web strand to tether himself against the nearest building.

He spots Chanyeol falling, limbs flailing, helpless to catch himself, and Baekhyun wrenches his body to swing toward him.

The ground rushes for them, and Baekhyun extends his free arm, crashing into Chanyeol and immediately clutching their bodies together.

“I’ve got you!” he says, swooping up from the ground back into the air.

Baekhyun gives the web a yank before releasing it, soaring through the air freely a moment before shooting off another strand to swing them forward. He’s had plenty of practice maneuvering one-handed to have it down. His other arm remains secure around Chanyeol, whose own arms are clutched around Baekhyun’s shoulders like a lifeline.

As they enter the quieter part of the city, Baekhyun tugs them upward toward one of the taller buildings. He swings up on his web, pulling them to the roof of the building, gently touching down on top of it.

Chanyeol’s fierce hold loosens, but he is still quite shaken by the ordeal, trembling hard and panting heavily for breath. Baekhyun’s cups the sides of his face, drawing back just enough to meet the intensity of Chanyeol’s anguished gaze.

“It’s okay,” Baekhyun whispers. “You’re safe now.”

A sob cracks from Chanyeol’s throat, and he hugs Baekhyun tight to his chest, who returns the embrace just as fervently.

Baekhyun buries his face into Chanyeol’s shoulder. He feels so much. Guilt, for not having realized sooner. The truth stared him in the face this whole time, and it seemed so obvious now, he should’ve seen it. Relief that it’s all over, that Chanyeol is safe and with him. And an uncertainty about that void in his chest, unable to tell if it’s repairing itself or just crumbling.

But mostly he feels Chanyeol against him, and he clings onto him with an irrational desperation, as though he might lose him again if he dares let go.

With the way Chanyeol tightly hugs him in return, he suspects he might feel the same.

After what feels like so long yet not long enough, their holds relax, Chanyeol’s shaking dying down, and they ease up just enough so that they can meet each other’s eyes.

Or rather so Baekhyun can meet Chanyeol’s. Shame seems to keep the taller boy from quite returning it fully.

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol whispers shakily. “I—“ The words catch in his throat, and he uses a noticeable amount of effort to swallow them down. “I almost killed you.” The words waver, the tremble soon returning as his emotions spill out in the form of quite sobs.

“ _Venom_ almost killed me,” Baekhyun corrects. “You stopped it. That was you.”

Rather than being appeased though, Chanyeol chokes on another sob. “I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

Baekhyun just squeezes him tighter. “It’s over, Chanyeol,” he murmurs against him. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you. He can’t hurt anybody, and I’m just… so, so glad that you’re safe now.”

A cut through the air followed by a light rumble of repulsors catches Baekhyun’s attention, and he looks back to see Iron Man descending to a smooth landing a few feet away from them.

The pressure release hisses from Iron Man’s helmet, and the mechanical pieces whir as the mask opens and reveals Suho Stark’s face.

He looks at Baekhyun then lifts his gaze to Chanyeol. “Chanyeol Park, I would presume.”

Chanyeol lifts his head, sniffing and wiping his face off on his sleeve, nodding solemnly.

“I need you to come with me,” Suho says.

“Mr. Stark,” Baekhyun says, turning toward him.

Suho’s attention turns to Baekhyun, and he frowns. “He needs to come with me.”

“I know, I know,” Baekhyun says, holding his hands up in front of him, trying to diffuse the tension. “Can I just have… five minutes, please? Just five minutes. Please. Sir.”

Suho’s brow raises in consideration.

“It’s a choice only I can make,” Baekhyun says, meeting his eyes with an imploring gaze, as though that might help him convey what he is trying to say.

Glancing at Chanyeol, Suho looks back to Baekhyun with a curt nod. “Alright.” His mask whirs as it slides down and locks back over his face. “Five minutes,” comes the robotic projection of his voice through the helmet. Palms parallel to the ground, his repulsors ignite, propelling him back into the air.

Baekhyun turns around to face Chanyeol again.

Chanyeol’s glassy eyes run over him slowly, taking in the full sight of Baekhyun and the spider-suit, and although his gaze is still weighed down with emotion, he cracks a faint smile. “I can’t believe it,” he says with a touch of wistfulness lacing his tone. “It’s you. It’s really been you this whole time.”

Baekhyun manages a small grin in return and nods.

A breathless laugh slips from Chanyeol’s lips. His hands lift to Baekhyun’s shoulders, fingertips tracing over the web design on the fabric as though to make sure this is real and not some elaborate dream.

However, it doesn’t take long for Chanyeol’s expression to fade back into that slump. “I thought I could be like you,” he explains. “But all I ended up doing was hurting you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Baekhyun says.

“It is,” Chanyeol insists. “I should’ve known that thing was no good, but I was stupid. I thought I was in control, and I let it get to me and ruined everything.”

“Chanyeol…”

His fingers touch Baekhyun’s lips before he can say more, and he shakes his head. “I hurt you,” he says. “And believe me when I say, that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do, but it’s what happened, and if I could take it back… oh God, I would.” His breath trembles as he inhales deep. “I care about you so much, Baekhyun. And knowing that I hurt you is what hurts most of all.” His eyes tear away, and Baekhyun can see the emotions catching in his throat, ready to overwhelm him again.

“Channie,” Baekhyun says firmly, reaching up to place his hands gently on his face and tilt his head so their eyes are meeting. “I forgive you,” he says. Because he understands. Chanyeol wasn’t trying to hurt him, he was trying to protect him. He thought he could use the power Venom gave him for good, but by the time he realized the truth, he was in too deep. Ultimately, he had prioritized Baekhyun’s safety even over their relationship, because as far as he knew, Baekhyun was innocent in all this, just a college nerd with no extraordinary physical capabilities.

He just can’t hold it against Chanyeol.

“Forgive yourself.”

Chanyeol simply drops his gaze, teeth grazing lightly over his lower lips.

“Please,” Baekhyun adds, thumbs gliding over the curves of Chanyeol’s cheekbones. Stepping forward, he rises on his toes to brush his lips over Chanyeol’s.

Their bodies are pulled together as Chanyeol throws his arm around him, one hand lifting to cup the back of Baekhyun’s head.

Their lips slide over each other’s slowly, a sequence of one gentle kiss after another, savoring every last moment of contact and warmth between them, as though they had an eternity to spend up here together and not just a few precious minutes.

Baekhyun puts himself into each kiss, letting them speak the feelings words can’t quite reach. I forgive you, I missed you, I’m still here for you, I mean it.

And in return, he can feel everything Chanyeol cannot say enough. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I never will again, I promise, I missed you too.

Finally, and with a great deal of reluctance from both sides, the kiss parts. Chanyeol’s hand comes around to rest on Baekhyun’s cheek. Their eyes lock together, trying to memorize every last detail of this moment they don’t want to end yet know has to all too soon.

“You really are amazing, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol softly says, a smile drawing across his lips.

Baekhyun chuckles lightly. “Nah.” He shrugs. “I’m just a nerd.”

Chanyeol laughs. His thumb brushes Baekhyun’s cheek before he lowers it to his shoulder. His gaze drifts out to the city ahead of them, taking in everything and looking at nothing.

“Is my life over?” he asks, probably speaking more to himself than Baekhyun.

The grin on Baekhyun’s face fades. “No,” he assures him. “Mr. Stark is a good man. You can trust him.”

Chanyeol sighs, his attention turning back to Baekhyun, and he manages a small smile. “I trust you.”

The hum of repulsors informs them that their time is up, but even then, it’s not until Baekhyun’s sure that Iron Man is fully landed that his hands lower from Chanyeol’s face and he turns around.

“Park,” Iron Man says simply, extending a metal-clad hand.

Baekhyun’s hand slides down Chanyeol’s arm as the taller boy steps around him. Pausing, Chanyeol looks over at Baekhyun, an uncertain glint still present in his eye.

Baekhyun nods. _It’s okay. You can trust him._

Chanyeol steps forward, nodding politely. “Mr. Stark.”

“I have a transport ready below,” Iron Man explains. “If you would hold onto my shoulder.”

Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s fingers still lock, but as Chanyeol moves to take hold of Iron Man’s shoulder, they slip away from each other.

Iron Man’s glowing eyes turn toward Baekhyun. “Baekhyun, you have once again defied orders only to do a job well done. I have more upgrades that I would like to go over with you later.”

Grinning, Baekhyun nods. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, sir.” His eyes shift over to Chanyeol, who gazes back him.

He’s alive and well out of harm’s way, but as he looks at him, Baekhyun’s heart still feels so heavy.

“I’ll visit you,” he promises.

Chanyeol grins. “See ya ‘round, nerd.”

Iron Man’s repulsors ignite, and the two of them lift into the air. Baekhyun watches as they soar overhead then descend, disappearing past the opposite side of the roof. He takes off after them, jumping and shooting web to the opposite taller building.

Pulling himself up, he lands against the corner of the wall, perching against it. The vantage point gives him a bird’s eye view of Chanyeol being escorted into one of Mr. Stark’s vehicles.

Seated inside, Chanyeol looks out the window, eyes wandering until they find Baekhyun. Surprise brightens his face a moment, but then a smile replaces it, and it’s only too easy for Baekhyun to return it.

The car drives away, and Baekhyun’s eyes never leave Chanyeol until the vehicle finally turns out of sight.

A gust of wind whips Baekhyun’s hair around his forehead as he stares at the spot where Chanyeol had just been moments ago.

Longing tugs in his chest, but… Baekhyun thinks that perhaps the sensation is not so unpleasant.

It exists because of Chanyeol. He feels this way because of his feelings for him, and Baekhyun wouldn’t ever want to lose that. This isn’t their ending. No, it’s only their beginning.

EPILOGUE:

The bed in Chanyeol’s new room is comfier than the last, though he really had no complaints about that one either. Compared to his stiff mattress in his old dorm, it’s quite luxurious.

Of course, everything in the tower is certainly more comfortable than it would’ve been in jail or prison. Chanyeol knows he should be grateful, and he is.

Leaning back against the stack of pillows propped against his new headboard, Chanyeol sits with his tablet against his lap, scrolling through his social media feed.

Photos of Baekhyun smile up at him as he holds up certificates of his latest achievements recognized by the university. Jongdae and Minseok stand on either side of him with their arms slung over his shoulders, enthusiastically displaying their support.

A soft smile touches Chanyeol’s lips, affection blooming in his chest. He sighs, tapping one of the pictures to bring it full screen, fingers splaying to zoom in on Baekhyun’s face.

What he would’ve given to be there in person. Mostly though, he’s just happy to see Baekhyun doing well and looking so animated.

A gentle clink coming from the side of the room catches Chanyeol’s attention. He looks over to the window to see it nudged open, a vase sitting on the sill in front of it with a flower resting inside it.

Chanyeol frowns. He’s sure that wasn’t there before.

Setting aside the tablet, he stands up from the bed and heads over to the window. A single black rose sits in the vase. He carefully takes the stem, lifting the petals to his nose, breathing in its gentle scent.

His eyes lower down the vase, and he notices a small splay of webbing connecting it to the windowsill.

A grin plays across his lips. “You know,” he says, sitting down along the sill and leaning against the side frame. His arm lazily rests across his bent knee, and he gently rolls the rose between his fingertips. “You’re really giving the term ‘creepy crawler’ a whole new meaning.”

Spider-Man drops into view right outside the window, hanging upside down, stopping at eye-level with Chanyeol. “Hi!”

Chanyeol laughs, sliding the window the rest of the way open. “What are you doing up here?”

“I heard you got a room with a window,” Spider-Man says, reaching for his mask and pulling it off.

Baekhyun’s hair hangs straight up from his head, and Chanyeol can’t help but grin at the sight. “Yeah,” he says. “It took some time, but now that Mr. Stark’s assured everyone that I’m not going to explode into a killer black blob with razor teeth, he’s been able to give me a little more leeway.”

Baekhyun spins around so that he’s right side up, perching along the outside edge of the windowsill. “That’s good. Because I want to steal you. Just for a little bit.”

Chanyeol laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t know that that’s gonna go over so well.”

“I already told Mr. Stark,” Baekhyun adds quickly. A wry grin tugs at the side of his lips, and he rubs the back of his head. “I mean, he can’t give me permission officially, per se, but as long as I have you back and no one else knows, he’s willing to pretend we never had that conversation.”

“You are impossible sometimes,” Chanyeol says.

“Come on, Channie, don’t you want to breathe some fresh air?” Baekhyun asks, bouncing a little. “Besides, you haven’t seen the city until you’ve seen it from the top of the tower.”

“I’m sure it’s a breathtaking view,” Chanyeol says. “Once you get past the whole insanely terrifying part.”

“But I’ll be with you,” Baekhyun replies with a mock pout and wide puppy eyes.

“Ugh,” Chanyeol grunts, but he’s still grinning. Reaching up, he lightly touches Bakehyun’s cheek. “That face is cheating.”

Rising from the window, Chanyeol walks over to his closet to pull on his jacket and step into his shoes. He returns to the window with his hand offered. “Alright, let’s go, you bad influence.”

Baekhyun trills his delight, taking Chanyeol’s hand and lifting to his feet along the ledge. Chanyeol steps up onto it after him, wrapping his arms around Baekhyun’s neck as the other slides an arm secure around his ribcage.

He glances down at the city below, all the lights from the cars and smaller buildings looking like tiny specs from all the way up here. His chest sinks with the realization of just how high his room actually is, arms impulsively squeezing around Baekhyun tighter. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this…”

“Just look at me,” Baekhyun says gently, and Chanyeol lifts his head to meet his eyes.

It doesn’t take more than a few moments for some of that tension to ease. It’s the effect Baekhyun has on him. Even now, thousands of feet above the ground, just looking into his eyes brings a unique sort of comfort, like he’s home.

“I trust you,” Chanyeol says.

Baekhyun grins, holding out his free arm to shoot a line of web before jumping from the sill.

A yelp leaps out of Chanyeol’s throat, and his eyes clench shut. His grip tightens against Baekhyun, and he buries his face into the curve of his neck.

His stomach flutters in an unnerving manner with every swoop, and Chanyeol has to wonder how Baekhyun can stand doing this regularly.

Baekhyun keeps his hold of him though, shooting web and pulling them through the air effortlessly. In fact, his handle and control over their movement is so seamless, it’s almost like they’re flying.

Slowly, Chanyeol lifts his head and even dares to open his eyes. Is this how Spider-Man sees the world?

The more they swing on, and Baekhyun demonstrates his handling expertise, the less scary it admittedly seems, and the more the city around them starts to look like a giant playground.

Wind rushes against Chanyeol’s face, rustling the dark curls on his head, and each breath feels cool and open. His gaze shifts to Baekhyun’s profile, and he can feel awe spreading warm through his chest.

This sweet little nerd that had endeared him at some random college party all those months ago is Spider-Man.

Yet he’s so much more than just Spider-Man, and despite being all these incredible things, and despite all the mistakes Chanyeol made, he still has him.

Baekhyun truly is amazing.

Their eyes meet, and a smile graces Baekhyun’s lips. The sliver of space between their faces closes, lips finding each other, and this time Chanyeol’s racing heart has nothing to do with the movement or acute awareness of their place above ground.

When they break apart, Baekhyun shoots one more web that pulls them up to the tallest roof of Stark Tower. Their feet touch down, and they slowly slide out of each other’s embrace.

“Wow,” Chanyeol breathes, wide eyes turning out to face the expanse of the city. The window in his new room gave him an impressive view, but all the way up here, it’s like a whole different world entirely. The bustle and rush of the city below is only a gentle murmur over a soft glow.

It’s humbling in the most beautiful sort of way.

“Hate to say I told you so…” Baekhyun coos, wrapping both his arms around one of Chanyeol’s in that way he seems to like to.

A sudden gush of wind makes Chanyeol stumble. “Whoa!” he yelps, clutching onto Baekhyun’s shoulders. “See, this is the part I don’t like.”

“I’ve got you,” Baekhyun assures him, hands on either side of his torso and feet firmly planted against the ground. “Come on. Let’s sit down. You’ll feel more secure.”

Chanyeol nods his agreement, and the two lower to the roof’s surface, sitting with their legs in front of them.

Baekhyun bends his knees and leans against Chanyeol’s shoulder, who slides his arm around Baekhyun’s waist.

“How have you been?” Baekhyun asks.

“Good,” Chanyeol says with a nod. “I’m okay. I’m doing okay.” And he’s not just saying that for the sake of appeasing idle conversation. He means it, and it’s certainly taken some time to reach this point.

“My therapist has helped me a lot,” Chanyeol explains. “And my mom can talk to me now without crying, so that’s definitely a plus. I’m still studying—Mr. Stark’s got some great resources. He’s been really supportive and encouraging.”

“I’m glad,” Baekhyun says with a grin. “I told you he was a good man.”

Chanyeol nods, and then his expression fades into one more serious as he stares off ahead at nothing in particular. “I still have nightmares about him… But then I wake up and remember he’s gone now. He won’t hurt me again, and I have you to thank for that.”

He looks over at Baekhyun, who grins modestly and inclines his head.

“I like looking at your social media to remind myself that he didn’t hurt you either,” Chanyeol says. “And _this_ definitely helps.” Reaching over, he takes Baekhyun’s hand into his. His thumb glides over his wrist and then slips beneath the hem of his glove, rubbing circles against his palm directly.

“That helps remind me too,” Baekhyun says, shifting his position to face Chanyeol more. “And so does this.”

Baekhyun stretches upward, and Chanyeol leans down to meet him for the kiss. Baekhyun’s hand curls over his thumb, and Chanyeol’s fingers fold over the back of his hand, giving it a squeeze.

A smile lingers on Baekhyun’s face as they draw away, a sight that sends a thrill through Chanyeol’s chest.

“What about you?” Chanyeol asks. “Looks like you’ve been doing well in school. And that Minseok and Jongdae are certainly keeping you busy.”

“They are,” Baekhyun says. “But I mean, we’ve toned it down quite a bit. After that first quarter, we decided to make a pact to make sure we’re kept up on our studies and holding ourselves accountable.”

“Wow,” Chanyeol says with a raise of his eyebrows and a teasing grin. “The nerd trio. I can’t believe you and Minseok were able to drag Jongdae into that.”

A chuckle bursts from Baekhyun’s lips, and he teasingly smacks Chanyeol’s chest. “Shut up!”

Chanyeol laughs with him a moment, and then it tapers off into a sigh. “But really, I’m happy to hear that. For all three of your sakes. Tell them hi from me, would you?”

“I will,” Baekhyun nods. “They’ll be glad to hear you’re doing well too.”

“And how’s all this going?” Chanyeol asks, gesturing to the spider-suit.

“Good. Back to petty criminals. Hopefully, it stays like that while,” Baekhyun says. “And Mr. Stark did add some new upgrades that are fun to play with.”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol asks. “Like what?”

“Here,” Baekhyun says, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll show you.”

Chanyeol brings his knees in front of him, resting his outstretched arms across them and sliding his fingers together. He watches with interest as Baekhyun runs toward the opposite end of the roof then leaps into the air.

He extends his arms straight out to his sides, and a sudden whoosh of web nettings extends from the underside of his arms, connecting to the sides of his torso. Baekhyun arcs himself backward, and the webbed “wings” catch against the air, so he glides backward with ease.

Baekhyun spins around through the air as gracefully as though he were in water, drifting back to Chanyeol. His feet touch down, and the wings disappear back up into his suit.

“Very nice!” Chanyeol cheers, smiling and clapping for Baekhyun. The smile curls into a smirk as he adds, “I gotta say though, that makes you look less like a spider and more like a flying squirrel—which is fitting, so kudos to Mr. Stark for that one.”

“ _Hilarious_ ,” Baekhyun drawls, sticking out his tongue.

He sits back down next to Chanyeol so that he’s facing him, leaning in close. His fingertips fiddle with the collar of Chanyeol’s jacket, watching it for a few moments like it’s the most interesting thing in the world before letting go of it and flattening his hand against his chest.

His cheek comes to a rest on Chanyeol’s shoulder, and he tilts his head back to look up at him. “I miss you.”

How is it that Baekhyun can say something so simple that both warms him and makes him sad?

Chanyeol’s hand covers the one resting on his chest, curling around it and bringing Baekhyun’s gloved knuckles to his lips, so he can press a kiss to them. “I miss you too,” he says quietly, gazing down at Baekhyun. “Makes me cherish every second we do get to see each other though.”

“I just wish I could give us more of them,” Baekhyun says.

“You worry about your schoolwork and yourself first though, okay?” Chanyeol insists. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you have the free time.”

“Ugh, you sound like Mr. Stark,” Baekhyun pouts playfully. “But I assure you, I’m all caught up on everything.”

“Good,” Chanyeol smiles.

He looks out to the city lights. From this high, they seem so endless. “Okay, I’ll give it to you. You were right. This really is quite the view.”

“Mhm,” Baekhyun hums.

Looking over at Baekhyun, he pulls him in close, lightly touching his chin with his other hand. “I like this view better though.”

Baekhyun laughs and shakes his head. “You cheeseball!”

Chanyeol laughs with him then closes in to stifle both sounds with a kiss, eyes drifting shut. His hand moves to Baekhyun’s cheek, gliding his thumb over his smooth skin.

Holding onto Chanyeol’s shoulders, Baekhyun pulls himself in as close as possible. Their lips glide over each other’s, tongues very gently meeting, soft hums deep in their throats.

Chanyeol’s heart beats faster, and he reluctantly has to make himself pull back before his body starts to get too excited. He inclines his head, resting it against the top of Baekhyun’s, and for several moments, they just hold each other like that, appreciating each and every last second they can share like this.

Eventually though, he sighs, slowly lifting his head to look at Baekhyun. “As much as I want to stay out here all night with you, I really should be heading back.”

Baekhyun nods. “Yeah.”

The two of them rise to their feet, walking over to the roof’s edge. They once again wrap their arms around each other, and Baekhyun shoots out a web, jumping into the air and swinging the two of them down.

They slow as they lower back to the window of Chanyeol’s room, Baekhyun catching the edge of the ledge against his feet. Carefully, he helps Chanyeol back into the room.

Chanyeol steps onto the floor, still standing against the windowsill. “Thank you,” he says. “It’s always nice to see you, but tonight was especially nice.”

“It was,” Baekhyun says. “And thank _you_ for trusting me.”

“Of course,” Chanyeol chuckles.

The distant blare of police sirens hum from down below, and Chanyeol leans forward as Baekhyun looks back to see the pursuit of police cars in the city streets. “Looks like duty’s calling you,” Chanyeol says.

“Yeah, I better go,” Baekhyun says, returning his attention to Chanyeol and grinning. “I’ll come back soon though.”

“As long as you’re on top of your school work,” Chanyeol insists with a dramatic wag of his index finger.

“I am, I am!” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes but laughing all the same. He tethers a web to a spot above the window, flipping over so that he’s hanging upside down in front of Chanyeol.

Grabbing Spider-Man’s mask, Chanyeol takes the opening and holds it against the top of Baekhyun’s head so that he can gently slide it back up. He smoothes the fabric down to his chin when he pauses and rolls it back to his nose so that his lips are exposed.

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Baekhyun’s lips, fingers splaying against the side of his face. Baekhyun’s head tilts to lean in as close as he can as he eagerly returns it.

Chanyeol draws back, rolling the mask the rest of the way down, lips quirked into a grin. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Spider-Man’s eye lenses dilate, then he swings back, shooting more strands of web and clutching onto them as he swings down to the city.

Chanyeol’s eyes never leave him. He takes the rose and holds it against his lips as he grins, watching him swing further and further into the city.

Spider-Man. The city’s hero. _His_ hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you enjoyed it! I love ChanBaek, and I love EXO, and I hope to write more of them in the future! <3
> 
> Twitter: [ninissymbiote](https://twitter.com/ninissymbiote)  
> Tumblr: [yixingscat](https://yixingscat.tumblr.com/)


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